CMBlack: Tears of a Phoenix
by Vindicated Soldiers
Summary: Cassy Black's sixth year looked optimistic. The summer was good, Harry had finally begun preparing for his role in war, and her relationship was going strong. The only issues were her suspicious cousin, Draco, and her infuriating inner desire to do more for the war than anyone was willing to let her. Yet when she comes of age, no one will stop her doing what she wanted. CMB Series.
1. Of tea and toast

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter I: Of tea and toast**

Either side of the fireplace and most of the back wall was obscured by rows and rows of books, many piled on top of one another haphazardly and others forcibly wedged into insufficient gaps in an effort to fit them all in; patterned cream paper lined the parts of the walls which were visible. Upon these walls were photographs of people Cassy did not recognise. There were a few of children and others of older adults, some with the Sun glaring behind them high in the sky and others where the occupants were bundled in thick woollen clothing. There was something unnerving about Muggle photographs. They never moved and the smile the camera captured remained frozen and unchanging, always staring.

Tucked in the corner of the room was a television and although Cassy did not know what it shown, she did recognise the distant planes of Africa flitting across the screen. There was a low mumbling of a male voice, but Tess had long since ridded them of that distraction and turned it to an almost inaudible volume.

She bustled past Cassy with two tea cups on a tray which she placed on the small table in front. Since Cassy had arrived at the door twenty-minutes before, the older woman had yet to stop smiling. She had grabbed her in a tight hug immediately and her enthusiasm had left Cassy's head swimming as she eagerly pointed out the name to match every face in the photographs that surrounded them. In her excitement, Tess had also demanded Cassy call her 'Nan', which is what her other grandchildren did and Cassy could only nod before she sat her down and hurried away to make tea.

Part of Cassy felt rather guilty. The enjoyment Tess seemed to take from simply having her present was unimaginable, but, she supposed, she was the last part of Jane. In the same way that Remus and her father adored Harry instantly, Tess would look at her and see the child she lost before she would take in anything about Cassy herself. Oddly, she found herself okay with that. Of all the expectations Cassy had had forced on her, being the vivacious daughter of Tess' equally spirited child was not the worst.

'Oh, don't mind that,' said Tess when she caught Cassy gazing at the television. 'I just had it on in the background while I was reading.'

'We do not have televisions,' said Cassy conversationally.

'At all?' asked Tess, eyebrows raised. 'What do you do with your time then? I can't get Alex away from it.'

'I socialise, read, play the piano,' she listed off.

'Socialise?' repeated Tess. 'Like banquets and balls and such?'

Even though the tone suggested she was joking, Cassy tilted her head away with half a smile on her lips.

'You do, don't you!' accused Tess playfully. Her brown-eyes were bright with laughter and an incredulous grin pulled at her mouth.

'I am from an old House,' defended Cassy simply.

'House,' mouthed Tess to herself, still obviously amused. She took a sip of her tea and gazed around at the bookshelves. 'See anything you've read before?'

Cassy hummed. 'Not particularly. Some Muggle books are popular, but many witches and wizards cannot get around the bizarre ways Muggles believe magic to work.'

Tess blinked slowly, as though Cassy had said something strange, and smirked to herself. Without sharing her thoughts, she turned to the table and picked up a book that had laid face down and open since she had arrived. Holding it up, she said, 'This is one of my favourite books.'

The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, she read. Cassy had enough to deal with one Shandy, let alone a book about another.

'It's a hard read, but before I retired I used to be a lecturer at the Royal Holloway University where I taught English. I even made it to be a Professor a few years into my career. I used to throw these kinds of books out there into my seminars all the time. They don't always immediately make sense if you're not concentrating either, so it wasn't much good for a nine o'clock discussion, but I loved doing it all the same.'

Cassy listened with unrestrained interest. Her Nan was obviously well-educated then, particularly to be a professor. Distantly, she wondered if her grandfather was the same then and if the pair had met studying. She had already been introduced to the cause of pride within the household which was the photograph of her aunt Jessica in her square cap and gown on the wall of the hall.

'That's how I met your granddad, actually,' told Tess, as though reading her mind. 'He was a post-grad at the time studying Chemistry. I used to be able to see him climb trees across the courtyard from my office to impress the girls in the History block across the way. One day he fell out and cracked his head. I went to fix him a cup of tea and laughed at him. I don't know what I did, but after his graduation a month later, he appeared at my office with flowers and an offer of a date.'

'You are older than him then?' questioned Cassy.

Tess shrugged and her expression became nonchalant. 'I might be. Not that he minded. It seemed to make him quite popular amongst his friends, apparently.'

Cassy laughed.

'Anyway, how are your GCSEs coming along? Do you have them sorts of things? Exams, I mean,' she asked.

Cassy took a moment to drink her tea, trying to work out what the acronym stood for before replying, 'We have exams we take at fifteen called OWLs.'

Tess giggled at the name. She then eagerly asked, 'Have you got your results then?'

'Not yet. Sometime towards the end of summer, I believe.'

'Expecting any As then?' asked Tess.

'I hope not!' replied Cassy, pleased she had learnt the Muggle grading system from Hermione in second year or she would have been horribly insulted. She explained the grading system and Tess listened eagerly, though she choked on her tea at the idea they used words such as 'dreadful' and 'troll' in their marking.

'Janie was always very clever. She got straight A's in all her exams. I did, however, get a fair few phone calls home about her not paying attention in class, or disturbing others. The teachers didn't know what to do with her. Too clever for her own good, they said. Too pre-occupied with making jokes and being a cocky sod to pay attention, if you ask me. She got into university, though, but it was a wonder with all the detentions she got at school… Well, from what I know, she and Sirius were two peas in a pod!'

Cassy smiled down at her drink. Her mother was clever then, lively too, and had an attitude to match.

'What about you then? Are you the same?' Tess fixed her with a look that seemingly was reserved only for the elderly, a beady-eyed stare that said a judgement had already been made and they were merely awaiting confirmation.

'No,' denied Cassy quickly.

Tess hummed at her.

'Really,' pushed Cassy.

Tess hummed again.

'I have had a few,' admitted Cassy with an unashamed smile.

Her Nan then nodded, satisfied with her interrogation.

'Favourite subject?' she quizzed.

'Potions,' said Cassy easily.

Tess' eyes lit up. Teasingly, she said, 'Do you use them to turn people into toads?'

Cassy waved her hand flippantly. 'We have a spell for that. I can show you next time I visit. I come of age in November.'

For a moment, a blank look settled on Tess' face, before her eyes widened comically and she gasped, 'Oh, yes. You said last time – it's a year earlier than normal… I'll have to ask Jessie to help… but oh, how will I send it to Wales?

'Scotland,' corrected Cassy, but she no longer thought her Nan was listening.

* * *

Grimmauld Place had become increasingly busy in the week since Cassy had returned from Hogwarts. There was always a familiar face in the kitchen and more often than not the day was punctuated with half a dozen knocks on the door of members reporting back or needing advice from one another. She was still ferried out of any meetings or conversations deemed too sensitive for her young ears, but Cassy had a better grip on the ongoing of the Order in a single week than she had all of last summer.

While the Weasleys were not staying over that summer, Cassy was accompanied in the kitchen by Fred and George, who had essentially inducted themselves the day the report on the Ministry battle was announced. They were collecting things that she suspected were at the request of Mundungus Fletcher, but nothing left the room without her strict permission.

'That might be my inheritance you are running off with,' she said as Fred whined.

'Oh, because you don't have enough of it already,' he said.

'I will just have to tell your mother what happens when she allows her sons to move out then. Common criminals, the pair of you,' she said, fluttering the newspaper out in front of her dramatically.

'Don't you dare,' they breathed together.

She smirked at turned at the faint pop that sounded to her left. Kitsy bowed lowly, one arm held out with her giant owl perched on his bony limb, who then held out a letter.

'Mistress,' he greeted.

She thanked him and he vanished. Opening it, she saw it was a letter from Astoria, a rather irritated one at that, demanding she not call her 'Aster' as Stephen had begun to do. It was a boy's name, she stated, and she would not stand for it. It was exactly talk such as that which spurred Stephen to call her it all the more though and he had already written to her in any regard, pleading she join in on the teasing for 'Astoria' was too long and she required a nickname that made her sound less pretentious; Merlin knew her head was inflated enough already. Cassy had yet to decide what side she was on, though she quite enjoyed the unfolding squabble.

Crin was on the counter, hissing at Sirius as he tried to cook, Fred and George stuffed something unknown into one of the cupboards and ran from the room smothering giggles; all that was left for Cassy to do was to shuffle several seats up to the centre of the table, as far as she could be from either impending mess as she ate her toast leisurely. The newspaper was the same as it had been all week. The title was always some variation of 'Harry Potter: The Chosen One?' with differing speculations and criticisms written beneath it. Some of them were dangerously close to the truth, but none reached a solid conclusion enough to be of any threat.

On today's paper was a photograph of a grim-faced, lion-maned man. Rufus Scrimgeour, she read, was the new Minister of Magic. She had heard of him, of course. He was one of Fudge's main critics throughout his reign, although that did not give Cassy any faith her would be any better. He was a little too easy to anger to seem much use in a wartime government.

'There is a bit in here about you,' she said. 'You made the front page.'

'Really?' asked Sirius as he flicked a bit of a sausage at Crin.

'He attacks you because you feed him, you know,' remarked Cassy, eying him from the corner of her eye.

'He attacks me because he's a bloody nightmare,' grunted Sirius. 'Please let me just buy you a new owl.'

'No,' said Cassy shortly. Instead, she read out, 'Twelve Years in Azkaban: Sirius Black's Tragic Tale.'

'Oh, good. Maybe I can sell my story and finally become as famous as I have always deserved,' he said cheerfully.

'You are already famous,' she teased and he shook his head.

'I'm infamous, it's not the same thing,' he protested.

The door above creaked and they both turned idly to see Mr Weasley descend into the kitchen with a wave and a smile. Cassy turned back to read the paper as he took a seat opposite her. Removing his hat and depositing his umbrella on the next chair, he stood to make himself a drink, having become far too at home to need to ask.

'Are you all set for your hearing tomorrow?' he asked.

'It will be nice to finally have a trial,' grinned Sirius.

'It'll hardly be a trial,' snorted Mr Weasley. 'It'll be a meeting of how much compensation to give you for a list of wrong doings as long as your arm.'

Sirius just grinned wider.

Mr Weasley returned to his seat at the table. 'You're still coming to the meal tonight? Molly insists.'

'What meal?' grumbled Cassy, but Sirius nodded, ignoring her.

'Of course, any excuse not to cook,' he said. 'Will Moony and Tonks be there?'

Mr Weasley nodded and Sirius sat beside Cassy at the table, smiling mischievously. 'Good. Tell Molly they must be seated together.'

Cassy eyed him with amusement.

'Anything interesting in the _Prophet_ today then? It's been nothing but rubbish for the last week,' said Mr Weasley, changing the subject.

Cassy hummed. 'Nothing much, apart from the tragic loss of youth by Fudge's cruel judgement, that is a line that has been thrown around four times already.'

'They are certainly keen to tell my story,' snorted Sirius. 'Who's the journalist?'

'Hold off on selling it just yet,' chuckled Mr Weasley.

'Oh, I am. I intend to work out the angle first and then embellish my dramatic tale. After tomorrow, the papers should be interesting. _The Daily Prophet_ will be all over it to discredit Fudge.'

'When is the trial tomorrow then? Has it been moved from the afternoon like you thought it would?' asked Cassy.

'Yes, it's now at Eight. It's the first one of the day now, but they expect it to do on for hours. Apparently, Dumbledore reckons they will want to know all about the last two years, but he's adamant they have no business to ask,' he said simply.

The trial was to be a full one where every member of Wizengamot was to be seated for the final judgement. It was to be larger than even Harry's trial, as testimonies of old witnesses and character references from old acquaintances were to be given. Those who worked on Sirius' case both times were to be under scrutiny as well in an effort to have the case sorted once and for all in all regards within the same hearing. Cassy hoped that it could be sorted within a single day, for some of the cases were already partially seen to, but the determination of what went wrong fifteen-years ago had yet to be fully made clear. It was thought to be the largest trial since the trials of the Death Eaters that included Barty Crouch Jr so many years ago.

The newspaper was passed to Mr Weasley when Sirius rose to answer the door as the bell chimed through the house. His eyes flicked down the first page disinterestedly. Like Cassy, he knew that anything of relevance was hidden in the side columns in small boxes and short, vague sentences. There was nothing of interest that day, though, she had checked twice.

'Ginny's looking forward to seeing you tonight. I think she's looking forward to some support against Ron. Now that Fred and George have moved out the pair are driving each other mad,' said Mr Weasley, sipping his tea.

'I can deal with Ron,' she assured flippantly. 'He seems to have a healthy fear of me.'

Mr Weasley chuckled. 'From what I heard about what happened at the Ministry, Ron has a right to be a little wary. You went head to head with Bellatrix LeStrange.' He gazed at her from over the rim of the mug and Cassy smiled slightly at the praise. He then leant forward and Cassy tensed. 'What happened between yourself, Harry, and Voldemort before Dumbledore arrived?'

'Why?' she asked. Her grin melted off her face.

'Just curious,' he said casually. 'It's the only part I've not heard about yet. Even Luna's been around telling stories.'

Slowly, Cassy opened her mouth. Surely, she thought, it would not be so bad to confide in Mr Weasley that Voldemort had offered her a place in his ranks, of all people he would be the most likely to pat her shoulder and offer her a biscuit with no further thought. It almost left her incredulous that Voldemort thought she would change sides so suddenly, but part of her felt embarrassed and repulsed that he would even offer. It was the only part of her tale that she had not told a soul and when she missed it out in her retelling to Professor Dumbledore and the Minister, Harry had skipped it too.

Before she could say anything, the door opened again and voices filled the air. Cassy stood quickly and took her plate to the sink. She could feel Mr Weasley's eyes on her back; her hesitancy had let him know that something of interest had happened, something she did not necessarily want anyone to know. Thuds echoed behind her as her father and Remus trudged down the rickety stairs. She turned to see Remus' greeting was an uneasy smile, though she could not fathom why. Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

It was not long afterwards that she excused herself, so she never did find the reason for Remus' wariness. A chair on the second story landing was of more interest to her right then, for it allowed access to the attic which had been filled with so many things that Cassy had barely been able to create pathways to navigate the collection. Whether Kreature had a part to play in the mess, she did not know, for he was nowhere to be seen. Sirius had wasted no time pretending when she had asked after the elf, having quickly observed the lack of aggressive mutters; Kreature had been telling Order secrets to Narcissa since Sirius had ordered him 'out' at Christmas. He had found a way around the secrecy he was ordered to upheld and instead worked around telling her self-deemed 'non-important' information instead. She did not ask what happened to him, but some night she could hear his curses pass her door.

Cassy remained in the attic until it was time to depart for the Weasleys' Burrow. She cleaned her hands and changed to a dress instead of dusty jeans before gripping Sirius' arm tightly. They swirled away and reappeared not a second later outside of the crooked structure that was the family's home. As always, they had far too many chimney stacks, the windows did not seem to match up equally in height to one another and shingles were slipping from the roof. The addition of a porch was new though and it looked hand-built by Mr Weasley, if the two dozen protruding nails were a sign of attempted Muggle construction skills.

Immediately, Tonks was visible through the Dutch door. Her hair was spiked and vibrant and she was speaking enthusiastically to Remus, who again appeared less certain of himself than normal. As the door opened, Bill and Fleur became visible to their right.

'I know you!' announced Fleur as Cassy finished waving at Tonks. She strode towards them, flicking her white-blonde hair over her shoulder as she did. 'You are friends with 'Arry Potter. 'Ow iz 'e?'

'Fine, I believe,' said Cassy, privately scrutinising the woman in front of her.

'I never got your name,' said Fleur.

'Cassy Black.' The friendliness was still unusual. Fleur had been distant and self-assured during the tournament and while still very confident, she seemed much more open and amicable than Cassy had ever seen her before.

'Cassy,' she repeated, testing the name.

'Cassy!' called another voice and before she had a chance to turn, Ginny had attached herself to her side in a hug while her feet were still in motion. She steered the two away from Fleur quickly before finally releasing Cassy at the other end of the room. Loudly and with no attempt to conceal it, Ginny sighed. 'I don't know why she had to come to dinner. No one likes her, not even Mum. In fact, I think Mum hates her.'

Cassy turned to watch Fleur try to help Mrs Weasley set the table. The older witch was smiling, but it was tense and thin as she waved her away and back to Bill, who smiled at Fleur sweetly, appearing to thank her for the offer to help his mother.

Ron dropped down into a chair beside them.

'Ignore anything Ginny's said about Fleur,' he said briskly, having anticipated the conversation topic. 'She just hates her.'

'She's air-headed and annoying. She thinks she's above everyone too like a posh ponce,' snapped Ginny.

Glancing back, Cassy watched Fleur toy with Bill's long hair.

'How long have they been dating now?' she asked.

'About six months, apparently,' sighed Ginny. 'It's revolting, really.'

With amusement, she eyed Ginny pointedly. For someone who was liberal with her public displays of affection, Ginny suddenly sounded very hypocritical. She said nothing about it though and the conversation quickly moved on to Fred and George's joke shop when the pair apparated into the house simultaneously. How they could apparate separately but into spots exactly beside each other was a wonder and the focus of the room quickly switched from Fleur to them as they paraded through a list of new merchandise that had Ron bubbling with excitement.

Ginny turned to Cassy suddenly and very quietly, she announced, 'Dean and Seamus came around to see Ron yesterday. Dean asked me out!'

'What did you say?' whispered Cassy.

'Yes, of course! You don't seem very surprised about it, though,' muttered Ginny with narrowed eyes.

'I'm not,' admitted Cassy. 'I have known he fancied you for ages now.'

'You're supposed to tell me these things!' reprimanded Ginny, slapping her arm.

'Dean is a friend too though,' protested Cassy without much effort.

There was a loud 'pop' and a cheer as Mr Weasley uncorked the champagne. It bubbled over the table and floor, yet not even Mrs Weasley seemed to mind. Instead, she stared fondly at Sirius for a moment before rushing to the kitchen to fetch more glasses.

Catching Cassy's watching eye, Sirius said, 'You're almost seventeen, you can wait!'

She batted away the playful jibe with a mere shake of her head. She said, 'I have no interest in alcohol. It only makes you stupid.'

Sirius screwed up his nose, as though she had said something particularly offensive.

'It certainly made Sirius do a few stupid things,' remarked Remus snidely.

Sirius did not look remotely abashed and instead seemed to inflate with pride as the teenagers all turned to him with interest. He puffed out his chest, ready to begin what would most likely be a tale full of embarrassment for himself and Remus, although Cassy was unsure if her father could feel that emotion most of the time, so it was sure to be a story that would leave Remus cringing at his younger self through the night when the Weasley's latched onto the joke. He was cut off, however, by Mrs Weasley's return. She fixed him with a critical stare though he appeared as though he was internally debating if he continued or not anyway.

'Relax, Molly, how much drinking can they really do when they have to be back from Hogsmeade at six?' said Remus, smiling.

The look on Tonks' face said that very much drinking could take place and Cassy tried not to smile as she winked over at her.

'In my school, we were allowed wine with our evening meals if we weeshed once seventeen,' commented Fleur, but Mrs Weasley did not acknowledge it.

'It made you popular, being one of the oldest sixth years,' added Bill, grinning. He shrunk back when Mrs Weasley turned to him, brown eyes blazing.

When she vanished back into the kitchen, Sirius passed Cassy a glass of champagne anyway.

'Hermione is older than me. She's the oldest in our year,' said Cassy, passing her glass to Ron to try.

Ron snorted loudly and passed it over to Ginny. 'Yeah, because Hermione will smuggle alcohol back for us.'

'What makes you think I will?'

'Because,' he said simply, reclining without another word.

A shadow loomed over them. They turned to see the willowy form of Fleur perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Ginny, glass in hand. She did not look at Ginny or Ron, but at Cassy expectantly, though Cassy said nothing. She did briefly wonder where Bill had vanished to so that Fleur could no longer coddle him and feed him grapes as she had been doing moments earlier.

''Ow are you, Cassy?' she asked suddenly.

'Fine, thank-you,' said Cassy, masking her surprise. 'Yourself?'

'Very well, Merci,' she replied.

There was an awkward silence. Cassy was wracking her brain to figure out why Fleur was being conversational. Perhaps it was the setting, after all, she had never seen Fleur outside of the tournament unless it was when she was being harassed by various boys. It was entirely possible she was actually friendly, although the effort seemed somewhat forced because Fleur had nothing to follow up the question with.

After a moment, Cassy decided the reason was of no importance to her and said, 'Your top, it is designed by Adele Beaumont, isn't it? She designed my Yule Ball dress.'

Instantly, Fleur's eyes lit up. She nodded vigorously and stopped swilling her drink within the glass. Beside her, Ginny made a small huff and stood, dragging Ron away with her. Fleur slipped into the seat beside Cassy.

'I thought as much,' she said. 'She often works weeth lace. It was a very beautiful dress. Your shoes are also French, yes?'

Having found some common ground, the pair talked until Bill called her away and into the conversation he was having with Tonks. Behind his head, Mrs Weasley scowled and clutched a tea towel as though trying to squeeze the life out of it.

When Cassy moved over to where Ginny and Ron were now sitting with Fred and George at the table, Ginny eyed her flatly and Cassy only blinked slowly in response.

'Can I not be civil?' she asked, eyebrows raised.

'You shouldn't be so surprised, Gin,' said Fred. 'Cassy and Fleur aren't really so different.'

Sharply, Ginny turned to her brother, seemingly offended on her friend's behalf, but Cassy did not really find fault with the comparison.

'They were both raised with money,' listed George.

'High expectations,' added Fred.

'And both like a bit of the good life,' finished George.

'Yeah, it's not surprising they both wear the same designer clothing, is it?' said Fred.

Ginny pressed her lips into a thin line that made her look unquestioningly like her mother. Snorting, she said, 'Yeah, but at least Cassy isn't insufferable about it.'

Cassy did not know how to tell her that it was probably something Ginny had grown used to, not that Cassy was subtle in her standing.

Dinner was soon underway with an assortment of odd chairs and knocking elbows as the twelve occupants squashed around the table. It was not long before Mrs Weasley had offered to cut Sirius' hair for the trial, insisting it was far too long and Bill was silently shaking his head in warning to decline her offer, motioning Sirius would have nothing left otherwise. The drink continued to flow steadily and the wide array of dishes Mrs Weasley had prepared were scattered across the long table and constantly shared around. Delicious smells mingled in the air and the conversation remained lively and upbeat all through the meal, even when the dishes were rounded up and taken away. In their place, a large, chocolate cake was in the centre of the table. Dozens of chocolate decorations smothered the thick icing and everyone let out a collective gasp and an applause for Mrs Weasley's hard work.

She flushed and waved away their praise, trying to hide her smile.

'Before we dig into the fantastic dessert Molly has made,' said Mr Weasley, enticing another cheer from some of the occupants, 'I would like to propose a toast.' He stood and raised his glass whilst everyone scrambled to make sure their glasses were full. 'Patience is not an easy virtue to have. It is about time that we all saw a good man go free to live the life he wants, if not the one he truly deserves. We'll be awaiting your call tomorrow, Sirius.'

Everyone held up their glasses with a loud shout of 'Cheers!'.

The cake was served and Cassy listened to Sirius intently telling Tonks about his and Remus' school days. Her giggles were barely contained and Remus looked torn somewhere between amusement, annoyance, and endearment as Tonks' cheeks turned red with exertion.

'You know, the more I learn about you two and James at school, the more I have realised you were… massive dorks,' said Cassy plainly.

Remus snorted into his drink. Spluttering, he said, 'Now wait a minute. That's unfair.'

'You had secret nicknames,' stressed Cassy. 'You gallivanted around at night in a secret club you made up.'

Tonks chortled and Sirius slammed down his glass.

'I need a replacement child, this one has gone horribly wrong,' he announced and those who had been listening laughed loudly.

Eventually, the evening came to a close. The plates were cleared away and Mrs Weasley's wonderful cooking had left no room for complaints of hunger. Time had escaped them and it was already late when the last drop of alcohol was drained from the bottle. The moon was high in the sky and the grass in the fields out the window blew gently with a summer breeze.

It was truly the best way to celebrate the occasion in the company of friends, thought Cassy. The only thing that would have made it better was if Harry had been present for his Godfather too. Though they had had their issues, Sirius and the Weasleys had come to an understanding that left them as friends, although ones ready to quarrel as much as raise wands together in battle. In a twisted sense, it was very fortunate that Mr Weasley had been injured last Christmas, because without the opportunity to show the hospitality and understanding her father was truly capable of, Mrs Weasley might never have rethought her opinion and such an evening would have been lost.

Sirius nodded to Cassy and the pair stood to leave. They needed to be up early tomorrow, earlier still to ensure they looked the part in front of the critical overseers and those who held onto old prejudices of purity. Just as they stood, Bill cleared his throat.

'Sorry, Sirius, do you mind if I say a little something before you all leave?' he asked and Sirius shook his head. Bill grinned. 'I know it's not the best timing, but seeing as everyone's here and we're already celebrating such a momentous occasion, I thought I would add one of my own. Fleur and I are getting married.'

Fleur beamed in her seat. It was not a polite smile like the one she wore so often, but a genuine grin.

There was a great crash as Mrs Weasley dropped the plate she was drying; Ginny seemed not to notice as she stared, aghast. After a pause, Fred and George began whooping and clapping in their seats and Mr Weasley rose to embrace his son tightly.

Cassy turned to Fleur. 'Congratulations.'

'Thank-you,' said Fleur warmly.

'Wow,' said Ron for the third time.

Bill turned to his mother, who seemed to be gathering her wits for a moment. She breathed in deeply and then smiled.

'I'm shocked,' she stuttered out. 'How wonderful. Excellent, really.'

'An excellent night for everyone!' announced Sirius, not at all bothered by the infringement on his evening. 'You should have told me. I would have brought the nice wine.'

* * *

 **Surprise, it's earlier than I expected. I had some great news (I got a job I was certain I had no chance of getting), so it's up earlier that I thought it would be.**

 **Welcome to year six!**

 **Thank-you for sticking with me this far. The response I had for the last year was brilliant and it really keeps me going when my motivation is down.**

 **Little bit of characterisation building, introducing Cassy to Fleur once again. See, I understand why Ginny dislikes her, but for Cassy none of that would be an issue. She was raised in the most superficial of societies and the grace, elegance, and poise that makes Fleur so repulsive to Ginny is so normal to Cassy that she does not think twice about it to allow it to bother her.**

 **This was just to show some life, really. I reveal some long awaited information in the next chapter though, so I hope it all makes sense and you enjoy it. I should have it up later tonight.**

 **(Thank-you, _Jesus (Guest),_ for letting me know about the formatting!) **

**Thanks!**


	2. As a free man

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter II: As a free man**

Dark blue-eyes stared at the painted ceiling. Despite the sleep that had come to claim her, it had been brief and not an hour after drifting off was Cassy once again awake in her bed. She and Sirius had gotten in late, past midnight despite their need to be up only five hours later. The celebration of Bill and Fleur's engagement had meant another bottle of alcohol was opened and it was not until Mrs Weasley called the night to an end did anyone take their leave.

All the celebrating should have caused Cassy to retire thankfully to her bed, but she instead spent an hour contemplating the trial to come, what she would say for the twelfth time and what her father would do first when they inevitably pardoned him. For a short time, she had succumbed to the aching in her eyes, but when she opened them again she felt much worse than she had before she slept at all. She frowned for a second, wondering why she would wake at that time, yet the answer came to her in a faint, melodic tune. She frowned deeper. She knew that song.

Her fingers tapped bed cover with each note, moving in time to tap the keys of a piano that was not there. It was the song from her music box, the one Sirius had given her for her fourteenth birthday.

Rising from the bed, she slipped on a silk dressing gown and crept down the hall towards the sound of the music. Light crept along the floor from the thin opening of the door to the drawing room. The fire was not lit and the lamps on the wall were only burning in the far corner where the piano sat. In front of it was a dark-haired man, tall and willowy, with a baggy shirt and loose pyjama bottoms.

'Is it a habit of yours to play the piano in the early hours of the morning?' she asked, arms folded.

Sirius spun around. 'Cassy! What are you doing up?'

She gave him a pointed look as she walked to perch on the arm of the sofa nearest to him.

'Right, sorry,' he said sheepishly. 'I just assumed you would have a silencer on your door or something.'

Cassy just raised an eyebrow.

'What time is it?' he asked.

'Two –forty-three,' she said.

'That's precise,' he muttered. 'I'll be quiet now if you want to go back to bed.'

For a moment, she was silent before she said, 'Are you nervous about later today? Is that why you are still awake?'

Sirius let out a hearty laugh. 'Oh, no. Merlin, no. I am excited.'

He smiled at her so widely that Cassy could not help but smile in return. It was a shame there was still a war on and that this freedom was not really to make him free, but free to fight and defend. It seemed unjust that after everything this was the best that could be done.

'How do you know how to play that tune?' she asked, moving her thoughts along.

'I wrote it,' he said and laughed at her wide eyes. 'I didn't just charm any old song into that music box of yours. It's one I wrote myself when I was young.'

'I was unaware you even played,' she admitted and Sirius shrugged.

'My father was very particular about my education, being the next Head of the family as the eldest. After a point, I stopped being able to leave the house because my mother dearest did not want me associating with my school friends, so I ended up spending a lot of time by myself in the house and ended up writing this song one afternoon,' he said briskly.

Cassy really did envy how easily he could speak of people who had been so ill-willed towards him so dismissively.

'Where did you go on Tuesday?' he asked suddenly.

Cassy stared and he stared back. She had not realised he had noticed she was gone for he said nothing upon her return. Upon reflection, she supposed it was entirely possible her father had checked the attic for her, but she was only gone for a few hours and had made it back in time to appear to request lunch from Plum and there really had been no reason for him to seek her out when he had just seen her at breakfast. Cassy sighed.

'I went to see the Lowes,' she said shortly. 'Mr Weasley dropped me off and picked me up.'

'Why did you hide that?' he said slowly, a deep frown creeping across his features.

'Because you never talk about my mother,' she said forcefully. 'I did not think you would be interested and quite frankly I had not wanted to bring it up when you were so happy, nor last Christmas when you were already so low.'

'You went to see them last Christmas?'

Cassy said nothing. For a moment, Sirius just held her stare, before he sighed deeply and ran a hand through his shorter, black hair that he must have chopped off as she slept. His eyes turned sullenly down to the ivory keys and for the longest time, no sound escaped him. It was only when Cassy stood to leave, having decided she had done enough, that he spoke again.

'You look so much like her, you know.'

Eyeing the back of his head, she replied, 'Everyone tells me how much I look like you, actually.'

'Only people who didn't know your mum,' he said, shaking his head gently. He sighed deeply and turned to her at last. 'I'm not proud of what happened between Janie and me, but, if you want to hear it, I suppose the story is the least I can do.'

The seriousness was oddly uncharacteristic of him. Even when against Bellatrix LeStrange he had been laughing, he had been jovial when inhabiting a cave and was forced to eat rats, yet her mother made him age, the light in his eyes flickered to a dull burn.

'When I was eighteen, I joined the Order,' he began.

Fears had spread widely about seemingly ordinary people being snatched from their beds, their homes and livelihoods burning before them and nothing remained in the aftermath. After several attacks on shops in Diagon Alley, Sirius had been given his first official assignment for the Order in the summer of 1978. Ollivander, suspected Dumbledore, was a potential target for such attacks. He was the best wandmaker in Britain, respected across the world and there was no doubt that the Dark Lord would have use of use talents to support his growing forces and their demands.

It was these fears that had found Sirius a job as a part-time clerk at the store and living in a street just outside of Diagon Alley in the run down Muggle area of London. To be too close would only cause suspicion and put Sirius at risk from his obvious location, but rarely did anyone to think to peer at the dusty windows across from the Leaky Cauldron where he soon established as home.

Ollivander did not have assistants though. He was a man dedicated to his craft so intently that there was no other he trusted to ensure the same quality of work that he could provide. However, he relented in the face of reality, spinning the lie he was aging and must slow down so often that after a while Sirius thought perhaps the man had come to believe it, for after the first few weeks his workload only seemed to increase each day. However, the man's fierce independence meant that too much help would only arouse suspicion and so with a few hours each day allocated to check on him, Sirius found himself with more free time than he had had in a very long time.

The surrounding Muggle areas were something entirely foreign to him, having only glimpsed them as he and James sped through the streets at night on his motorcycle, or when they had accidentally wandered through one lazy summer. So he took his time to explore it, to go into every shop and touch enough things that the storekeeper either suspected he was deranged or that he was shoplifting, but Sirius never minded when they shooed him on, for he would simply venture into the next shop and write to Lily about the strange things he saw and really, he asked her, what was the function of a giant pencil?

It was not long before he stumbled into a little coffee shop. One wall was bare stone and another was an endless window, music with heavy guitars filtered through the fixed speakers, a blackboard was fixed upon the wall with the latest offer scrawled across it. It was never busy inside and it was not long before he found himself stopping there every day before work, even though it was in completely the wrong direction. He would sit with a coffee and the Daily Prophet, eyeing the other occupants with amusement whenever they would double back around as their periphery caught a glimpse of the swirling text and moving photographs.

It also helped that the person behind the counter on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Saturday mornings was a willowy, long-haired blonde with the prettiest face he had probably ever seen. She had an oval face, thick, tumbling locks, and large, dark blue eyes. Full lips smiled at each customer and she had strong eyebrows that shifted with each and every expression that fluttered across her face. She also had a glare that sent overly-friendly men slinking back to their seats and had left Sirius chuckling to himself more than once. He had little interest in anything more though. A Muggle would complicate his life beyond imagination, particularly in the middle of war against them. That did not mean he did not look though.

They never exchanged more than a 'hello', though she memorised his order as he had done her name. 'Jane', the label had read.

By late August, James and Lily had got married and the pair had been swept away from Britain to a hotter, brighter country that was not trembling with an awaiting murder at every corner. The full moon was high in the sky and Peter had been called away to care for his mother. Faint light from distant lampposts shone through the dusty windows, illuminating where he sat on the sofa with a scrap of paper in his hands. One of the cashiers, Jack, had scribbled down an address where he and Martin, another worker, were planning on heading that night; they had asked if he wanted to join and although he had shrugged the invitation off, it was more tempting at night after a day of particularly slow work. The pair were nice enough and they laughed with him to the point the manager had come out of the back office to glare.

Despite himself, by midnight he was sat around a table with nine other people, many of whom he did not know, and had repeated his name more times that he had cared to count to various scoffs and wary faces.

'Serious?' said Lucy, a girl Sirius had never seen before and who did not look old enough to be drinking Malibu. 'Your parents named you Serious.'

The thunderous roar of the amateur band in the corner made it difficult to hear her, but from the amusement on her face he knew exactly what she had said.

'Sirius,' he stressed. 'It's not an "ear" noise, it's an "ih" noise.'

'I can't tell the difference,' shouted Jane, grinning. 'No wonder you never introduced yourself before. What a name.'

He pouted, for all the jokes and jibes that had been made over the years, no one had ever out-rightly laughed at his name before and certainly not someone with such an odd name herself. Sirius had only ever met one Jane before.

'It's better than Jane, though,' she continued loudly over the music. 'At least your name's interesting. My mum named be after bloody Jane Austin, for God's sake.'

She was in work the next day, looking slightly worse for wear at nine in the morning. She even smiled at him when he came through the door.

It took several more weeks to learn that on the days she did not work she did a course at university to train as a translator. She had a younger sister who skipped a year at school because she was so clever, if a little boring at times. She still lived with her parents and their cat, Osborne, who she had found by the roadside years ago.

In turn, he told her how he had gone to a Scottish boarding school for the gifted, that he was estranged from his parents but had found new, better parents in the process. He explained all about how he and his friends were known to be troublemakers at school and of their group called the Marauders. She had laughed at that.

'You're such a dork,' she sniggered. 'I can't believe your friends thought of a group name!'

Sometimes he would go after work and loiter until her shift ended. She would make herself a drink off-duty and slip into the seat opposite. They would talk until closing time and she could climb into her car with scrapes down one side from where she had once tried to reverse into a friend's driveway unsuccessfully. He would see her the next time she was in work and he would leave again to watch Ollivander.

'What do you mean you can't come to the Halloween party?' she asked, aghast.

'I have plans already,' he defended quickly. Those plans were nothing more than an Order meeting, but he could hardly skip that to get drunk. 'Besides, I don't even work here.'

Jane waved her hand flippantly. 'You're the café's main source of income. I think you can come to a staff party.'

Sirius grinned and sipped his coffee. Jane stabbed at her drink with a stirrer for a moment, before she looked up at him sharply.

'Do you want to go on a date with me?' she asked suddenly.

Sirius choked.

'Careful now, if you die I might get fired and I need the money too much for that,' she drawled.

'A date?' repeated Sirius after clearing his thought. She was as blunt as ever and while she stared back her hand was busy jabbing violently at her hot chocolate now.

'I know you can be a bit weird and out of touch, but I thought you'd know what one of those is,' she teased.

'I know what a date is!' he protested. 'I just did not expect you to ask.'

'Well, it's become apparent you have no intention of asking, so I thought I would,' she said slowly.

'Why would I ask myself on a date?' he joked and she rolled her eyes.

At Hogwarts, Sirius had been very aware of his own popularity. James and Remus had pointed it out more than once over the years, yet he had never had much interest in perusing many girls because they got in the way of his ability to gallivant where and when he pleased with his friends. Besides, he was not much use when people cried and his constant rapid disappearances to assist Remus did cause a lot of suspicious tears – he had made his first girlfriend cry on the second day they were together and panicked and broke up with her – and it took a certain type of woman, someone like Lily, to be able to cope with the high energy levels of him and his friends. Although, seventh-year had been a change of pace for everyone. Once James settled down, there suddenly seemed to be more time in the day and for once, Sirius could imagine having someone of his own to laugh with, to share secrets with, and to have waiting and to wait on when he got back from the war.

Yet the fact that Jane was a Muggle was an unavoidable fact.

He grinned wolfishly at her. 'Can I get back to you on that?' His tone was cheeky and seemed to buffer the blow of the implied rejection as Jane only raised an eyebrow and shrugged in return.

It was two days later that Sirius pulled up outside her work and threw a helmet towards her as she exited the back door.

'Get on,' he ordered.

The only sound she made was a long 'ooh' as she stared with glittering eyes at his motorbike. They rode to the outskirts of the city before he pulled up outside of an old, concrete building with a long queue outside of the door. It was a gig of some unknown little band that were popular enough and they danced haphazardly without a care. They drank too much and laughed until it hurt. For half-an-hour they had managed to appear sober enough to get into a restaurant and order, but midway through their meal the manager had realised their state and the pair fled when they caught him staring suspiciously. They climbed into a taxi with complaints that no one should cover a Queen song and grimaced about the weird older couple in front at the gig and their frisky display of physical affection that had them both gagging.

When the taxi pulled up to her house, she turned and said, 'Next time, give me a bit of warning so I can wear something nicer.'

'There's nothing wrong with woollen jumpers and tight jeans,' he said with a wink.

She gave a tinkling laugh and slammed the door.

The next time they went out together they watched a film and the time after that they saw a comedy show. By the end of November, they were officially together. He pretended to work in a shop far away to deter her from trying to visit and spent days apart due to his 'police training scheme' he had told her all about to mask the Order. He met her parents at Christmas and it was then that Sirius had to admit to James where he had been vanishing to over the weeks. James' had chortled and shouted to Lily, who had laughed loudly down the stairs. Sirius lamented that he could not punch her as he did James.

By January, he was already beginning to have thoughts about when to ask her to move in with him; the code of secrecy made it difficult, though, but the problems really arose when she cornered him in late May.

'I'm pregnant,' she announced. Her hands were wound protectively over her stomach and her shoulders were hunched, defensive and with more uncertainty that Sirius had ever seen her before. Panic surged. He was nineteen, too young to be a father. They should have been more careful, he should have thought about the possibility, but the thought of being a father had never crossed his mind, not after the awful job his own parents had done. They had been careless and neither seemed prepared for the responsibility, but they were determined to make the most of it anyway. He would be damned if he did not at least try to be better than his parents had been to him.

Sirius turned to Cassy and paused for the first time since he had begun his tale. Deeply, he sighed and turned his closed eyes to the ceiling.

'That's when everything went to hell,' he muttered. 'Not because she was pregnant, though that certainly complicated things a bit, I never expected… anyway, I invited her to move in with me to make a proper go of it and introduced her to James and Lily, who she had been dying to meet. Then, one day when we were out, the street went up in flames.'

Black cloaked figures flooded the street. Screams tore through the air and people ran in every direction, but it was no use, for the Death Eaters were everywhere. Dumbledore later told them it was because they suspected several of their critics had gone into hiding in the complex across the street and the fight had transferred to the road. The cause did not matter, though. Sirius hauled Jane into the park and pushed her down beneath the hedge.

'What are those things?' she cried.

'Stay here, okay?' he said hurriedly.

'You can't leave! You'll die,' she protested.

'I will be fine,' he said withdrawing his wand. 'I won't let anything happen to you, I promise.'

She stared at the wand in his hand, frozen in place. He did not turn back to see if she had moved as he darted from the bush to join the fray. He thought she might have shouted something, but if she did, it was lost in the din. When he returned later, after the Auror department arrived, she was still beneath the hedge where he had left her. She did not fight when Lily gently pulled her to her feet, or when she apparated her away. Whether it was the sensation or the scene she had witnessed that left her pale and wretching into the washing up bowl, Sirius never did ask. Lily hurried back to them as Sirius muttered to her on the sofa and James lurked awkwardly to the side. She shoved it into her hands, insisting she drank it before the shock could set in and harm the baby. Jane drank it mechanically in the same silent way she then listened to their explanation.

When they finished, she continued to sit stiffly, the empty phial clutched in her hands. Softly, she said: 'I would like to go home.'

Though it was not the ideal way for her to learn of their world, Sirius could not bring himself to take her to the Ministry to have her mind erased as he knew he should have. It bypassed the issue of telling her once the baby was born and the inevitable accidental magic incidents to come. More than that, though, when he came back from an Order meeting a week later, Jane's eyes were glittering. They shone with interest and she demanded to know everything, from Hogwarts, to Quidditch, to the pranks he had pulled at school. She wanted to know what magical things he owned and where they were in the house and she tugged and took them apart with unrestrained curiosity. It was a sudden departure from the quiet, sullen creature she had been since the attack. He relished having her back so much that he did not question the cause for change nearly as much as he should have. It was not until two months later that he realised something was churning unfavourably in that brilliant mind of hers.

What he had thought were friendly queries about James and Lily's whereabouts and wellbeing became questions posed three or four times a day. She did not go anywhere if not with him beyond popping to the corner shop or to work, but even that she quit as her pregnancy progressed. She would talk avidly of their unborn child, yet no one was allowed to touch the growing bump or suggest names or laugh about how like its parents it might be. Her expression would shut off immediately if anyone but her or Sirius mentioned the baby.

She had even refused to see a doctor to have scans and it took Lily to accuse her of not caring for her child's health before Jane agreed to see a healer and not a doctor. That was when Sirius learnt he was having a daughter. A perfectly healthy, if small, daughter. The healer requested they return again soon to have another check-up, for the child should have been larger than it was and while Jane's eyes watered at the prospect something might be wrong, she refused to go again.

Tess sent parcel after parcel of things for her first grandchild that all went into a box beneath the bed. It was not until much later that Sirius found out Jane had not seen her mother in months. When he had made up his mind to speak to her about it, he found her lying on the sofa with a book of baby names Lily must have given her.

'I can't make up my mind,' said Jane when she heard him come in. 'I want something unusual, but not too weird. Something she won't be picked on for, but wizard names all sound so ridiculous that I don't know what's normal and what's not!' She laughed to herself.

Sirius almost considered seeing her read the baby name book a nice change from watching her meticulously read the Prophet cover to cover twice a day. He broke through her ramblings of moving to the country when she had completed her course that evening with a blunt, long-coming statement, 'I think you should seek help.'

She stopped talking immediately and slowly turned to him. The trouble he would be in for not having her mind erased, he found upon asking around the Order, would only be minor because of her situation. She was pregnant with a child of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight's children, the direct heir's, in fact, so the likelihood they would legally have been able to erase her mind in the first place was minimal, though the consequence of not making it known months ago would be much more severe. It did not matter though because he wanted her to be better. He did not want her fearing every time he left the house, or when she went to her lectures to feel the need to run home. He did not want to have to tell himself that the interest she showed in his life was something more sinister than it appeared, that he should not be happy that she had read the entire first year's books because it was an obsession and not a true interest.

It was the only thing they ever really fought over. Jane's well-being and the health of the baby were the only causes of raised voices in all the time they had been together.

'I'm not crazy!' she screeched.

'I'm not saying you are, but something is not right, Janie, don't you see?' he roared in return.

'What is not right is your world being hidden like it is. All it does it leave us vulnerable!'

'I have told you before, I won't let anyone hurt you,' he said forcefully.

'Who's going to protect me and Cassy when you keep sneaking out at night?' said Jane shakily.

'I have told you it is for work,' he sighed, massaging his temples. 'Who's Cassy?'

Jane rubbed her swollen stomach. 'I decided I might call her Cassy. What do you think? It's a star name too, Cassiopeia.'

'You _cannot_ call her that,' he protested quickly. 'I have a great aunt with that name!'

'A true family name then, even better,' she said as she slouched back into the sofa, seemingly out of energy. She breathed in and out heavily, patting her stomach through her woollen jumper absently. For a time, neither of them said anything until she spoke in a very small voice, shaky and uncertain, 'Sirius, where have you been going really?'

Sirius dropped down into the chair beside her and took one of her small hands in his. 'I have been at work, of sorts. I help fight against the Death Eaters I told you about.'

In his head, Sirius had expected her to gasp, perhaps tear up, not cry though because he had never seen her cry, and tell him he was stupid, but he did not expect to have the book of baby names thrown at his face with a bellow of, 'Are you out of your fucking mind!'.

She tore her hand from his and pushed him away as she staggered to stand.

'What was that for?' he demanded hotly.

The fight only escalated from there. Nothing the other said seemed to calm their partner down, but towards the end, neither of them were trying to. Their voices became hoarse and the neighbours were banging on the wall with shouts of their own as the clock ticked around to one am. It seemed absurd upon reflection, but without warning Sirius grabbed his coat and stomped out of the flat with a tremendous bang. He had reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard a shout of his name, Jane's desperate voice piercing the silence of the night, but he did not turn back to her. He apparated away.

After much ambling, he found himself in front of a familiar house on the outskirts of London. The lights were all off though the room at the back was sure to be lit as it always was late at night. A short, sharp ring of the doorbell had a cloudy figure hurrying down the stairs. There was a pause as they peered through the peephole and then the door was thrown open to reveal a blonde haired, brown-eyed girl two years his junior.

'Jessie,' he said.

'Sirius!' said Jane's younger sister in surprise. 'Is everything all right?'

Sirius shifted his feet and she moved aside wordlessly to let him in. Jessica knew him well enough by that point because although Jane had stopped visiting her family, he had not. It had been him who had told them they were expecting a girl and it was him who kept them updated on how she was and how her course was going over the months of absence. So when the seventeen-year-old fixed him with a critical stare, he was almost not surprised by what left her mouth.

'Does this have something to do with your magic?' she asked.

Sirius groaned and put his head in his hands. 'How do you know about that?'

'Jane told me,' she said simply, 'before she went… funny.'

It was an hour later that the phone went.

Again, Sirius stopped his story and turned to Cassy with a look of unusual tension. She had watched many emotions flicker across his face as he spoke, but this was one of shame, something she had never seen from him before.

'The phone call was from the hospital. Jane had become so stressed she had gone into premature labour,' he said grimly.

Cassy blinked slowly.

'One of the neighbours popped round to check on her after I left having heard the shouting and she complained of stomach pains and she couldn't breathe. I left and she had a panic attack. With all the stress her paranoia had already put on her body, it simply could not cope any longer. You were born almost two months early.'

'You did not know what was going to happen when you left and, to be honest, it sounds as though I would have done the same,' said Cassy gently.

Sirius shook his head. 'I should have known, though. I watched her descend into her own mind and I should have known better, but I still left.'

'She was fine in the end, though,' said Cassy, although the word "fine" was not something she could really apply to her mother. Her mother was never fine and from the sounds of it she had not been for a while.

'It almost wasn't,' he admitted. 'The stress she had gone through all through the pregnancy meant you were very small, smaller than what you should have been even then and for a while they were not sure if… if you would make it. You could not breathe properly on your own and for the life of me I could not figure out why they had stuck you in a plastic box with a pink hat on your head and a tube down your throat, but Phil told me it was normal and it would help. Your mother never left your side.

'I wanted you taken to St. Mungo's. I would know what was going on there, at least, and our medical care is better, but at the mere mention of it Jane told me to get out. She slammed her hands into my chest and demanded I leave. For a few days I thought she had forgiven me, but then the anger returned with a vengeance. She said I was not there for you both when I was needed and that I had chosen to leave so I should go back to my life before I met her, if I was so unwilling to stick around for my own daughter.'

Sirius frowned deeply and drew a breath.

'She said she did not need me; she said she could raise you by herself and you would be confident, strong, fierce, and ever so clever without me. The wizarding world would not know what hit it when you were eleven and neither would I because I would not be around to see a single day of it. In the end, she was right, just for the wrong reasons.'

Cassy did not know what to say, so she kept silent and waited for him to collect his thoughts while he picked at a loose cotton thread on his trousers.

'Phil came and collected all her stuff. He apologised more times than I could count and Tess and Jessie rang me all the time on the landline Jane insisted I installed when she moved in – she had thought it funny I did not have a telephone, though I suppose she learnt why. It was another two months before you were out of the hospital and then Jane became worse and she refused to leave your side. She had hit her sister when she held you. She stopped picking you up, you see. She would just let you cry and cry and sometimes Tess said she would cry with you. She rang me only once. She rang to ask why she could not get you to stop crying. That was when the authorities got involved and Minerva took me to see social services about getting custody of you through the magic courts.'

'McGonagall?' asked Cassy with surprise and Sirius nodded distantly.

'Jane was forced to attend therapy and your grandparents were to be your guardians while the court sorted through my assets and whether I was suited to have sole custody of you. It was not long after that that James pulled me aside and told me Lily was pregnant. He asked me to be Godfather and with everything else going on it was the best news I had had in a long time.'

He smiled and he turned to Cassy with a much happier face than he had had for half the story and finished, 'I suppose the rest is rather straight forward.'

Cassy still said nothing. Guilt settled in her as it always did when she thought of her mother. How different her life may have been if not for that Death Eater attack was eclipsed by how different her mother's might have been had she not been pregnant. Perhaps she would never have been driven to be so afraid, so fearful of everything and everyone that she had been confined to that asylum where she had later died not so many years later.

'I really ruined her life,' laughed Cassy coldly.

'No, no,' said Sirius quickly. 'I should have done things differently. I should have got her help when it happened instead of thinking I could handle it. If I had done things differently then, well, who knows?'

Cassy clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled, 'You did what you could and I do not fault you for that. You should be more concerned with today. We have to be up in… sixty-three minutes.'

They both stared grimly at the clock. Neither had really slept and it was four o'clock already.

'This trial is going to be hell,' moaned Sirius.

Cassy eyed him plainly. 'You know, for being my father, you are not a very good role model, being up at four o'clock.'

Sirius huffed a laugh and rubbed his fingers over his closed eyes. When he looked at her again, he smiled, 'You don't have to call me "father", it reminds me of my own. You can just call me "Dad", it won't kill you.'

That was a horribly informal title. In the same way that Cassy did not like referring to her cousin by her surname now they were close, she did not really wish to breach the line of propriety and call Sirius something so casual. It was just not done. In a sense, it almost felt like the title was reverting back to a childish familiarity, but at the sight of his hopeful face, she inwardly sighed and nodded.

'I suppose,' she said reluctantly.

'That's the spirit!'

* * *

The day of July 9th was a tiring and tedious one. With Sirius having been formally escorted to court by Kingsley and Cassy by her cousin and legal guardian, who sported cropped black hair, the proceedings began with a declaration and admittance by Fudge that he had known of Sirius's innocence for over two years and had failed to act upon it. He stressed without solid evidence he had been unable to make a true verdict that night and while Cassy loathed it, it was that technicality that rid him of a stay in Azkaban.

There were another two hours of formalities and various interviews before Cassy was called to the stand to recall the events of that very night. She was only two sentences in before she was halted and asked where Harry was and why he was unable to testify with her today. Professor Dumbledore stood sharply, forbidding the deviation which was promptly sustained, although questions on his whereabouts occurred twice more during her questioning. She was careful to omit any interaction with her father besides the official story and once or twice she admitted to writing to him and having him appear in the Gryffindor fire in response. No one faulted her for this because while technically illegal to not report the contact, it was the former Minister's own fault that he had been seen as such and so it was pardoned.

Following her was Hagrid and his own version of the night, as well as Professor McGonagall and the tall, kind-faced inspector that had seen to Hagrid's class. Remus was the last to be interviewed, although much more rigorously for the suspected harbouring of his old friend, though he denied this and Professor Dumbledore once again called for a settling down of the questioner.

It was many hours before Cassy, Tonks, Hagrid, Remus, Professor McGonagall, and Moody all sat in a row to await the verdict. At a small table in the centre of the room sat Sirius, not looking nearly as nervous as anyone else would have and none of those sat watching felt nervous either. Coolly confident in his imminent release, Cassy smirked and nodded at her father when he turned to her; he gave her a thumbs up in return and Remus let out an audible sigh. He was called to attention as Madam Bones stood with the total of the collective votes. The room fell silent immediately.

This was it, thought Cassy eagerly.

Madam Bones cleared her throat and said, 'Not guilty for the murder of Lily and James Potter. Not guilty for the murder of Peter Pettigrew. Not guilty for the murder of thirteen Muggles.'

Sirius grinned.

'Guilty for breaking out of imprisonment and unlawfully resisting arrest,' she finished.

Around the room, everyone sucked in a sharp breath. Cassy had remained stoically still, but her hands clenched the fabric of her skirt tightly, urging Madam Bones to continue with some sort of dismissal. Any words came too late though and the room broke out into hush whispers and Cassy's face slowly began to morph into a scowl. She had not even known that had been part of the trial. It was ludicrous to sentence him on such grounds when the wrong doings of the Ministry was far greater than what he had done. It was not possible, she knew, it was simply not possible that there would not be a reprieve.

'Order!' shouted Rufus Scrimgeour, rising. When the hall quietened again, he turned expectantly to Madam Bones. 'I think, given the circumstances around Mr Black's escape, we may give a pardon. I do not believe it worth voting for, however, as twelve years in Azkaban outlives any sentence that could reasonably be given for such a crime.'

It was obvious that the new Minister of Magic was attempting to appear reasonable where Fudge had not, but his smile did not fool Cassy. He needed this trial over quickly and out of the way before moving onto the critical security matters at hand. He had not said anything during the entire day beyond his name and position; he had no explicit interest in the case, but that was fine. He did not need to care as long as he dismissed the charges.

'The Ministry of Magic has been found to have unlawfully foregone proper procedure in the case of Sirius Black and unjustly sentenced him to the most severe of imprisonments available,' continued Madam Bones before scrolling up the paper.

'Compensation for Mr Black will be discussed next Thursday, if appropriate with myself and the support team,' said Scrimgeour. 'With that said, I hereby declared that Sirius Orion Black is cleared off all charges and is free to go.'

The effect was immediate. Hagrid's giant hands caused the loudest applause, but not to be outdone, Tonks put her fingers to her lips in a piercing whistle. Cassy stood and descended to the floor. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Sirius swept her into a fierce hug and spun her on the spot with a chortling laugh.

'Better late than never, ay?' he said.

A flash shone through the hall and the Blacks both turned to spot the little man in the doorway amongst the exiting peers.

'Oy!' shouted Tonks. 'You're not allowed in here!'

'I'm not technically in the courtroom,' said the little man tartly before snapping another photograph.

Sirius did not seem to notice, though. His eyes were alive and wild with anticipation for the first time in a long time.

* * *

 **So, over the years I have had several questions about Cassy's mother and I purposefully refused to answer on the grounds that the only person who knew was Sirius and now the moment for him to reveal all is finally here! What did you think? It was long, but with everything that I needed to fit in to make their relationship believable and understandable it had to be. In the end, with all the detail on their lives I have stored in my head it could be a book by itself so count yourselves lucky!**

 **I once read that Rowling had said Sirius was 'too busy being rebellious' to care much for settling down and I accept this. I loathe the idea that many people have that he is an air-headed idiot who uses and abuses women for sex just because he is stated to be attractive. He's said to be clever, an animagus in fifth-year, and creative and funny. Not a moron. At no point does he express remote interest in a woman in the series itself, so I can't imagine him as a womaniser either, so I give you my little interpretation of Sirius growing into his twenties during a war and following his best-friend's wedding.**

 **I hope you like Jane. She's supposed to be clever, funny, confident (though evidently nervous about asking Sirius on a date!) and beautiful. I like to think Cassy is a combination of the pair. Her descent is something I tried to do carefully, because her reaction has to be believable. She went from vivacious to paranoid to having post-natal depression and was unable to recover from it in the span of a chapter. What do you think?**

 **Some people weren't keen on Cassy having a Muggle mother, but I hope this softens the blow.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks!**


	3. A knock on the door

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix 

**Chapter III: A knock on the door**

Despite a getting in late after an impromptu celebration the night before, Cassy woke early to the dull vibration of the two-way mirror sat on her desk. She spent much of the morning catching Harry up with the events of the last two days and in turn he talked her through the day's Daily Prophet and its extensive coverage of the previous events. The newspaper had exploded with stories from people who were there and who had even partially known Sirius at any given point in his life. He held up several photos the paper had used, some of which contained Cassy either smiling politely, or appearing stern-faced and unapproachable with speculating headlines. The Prophet was desperately trying to determine how well she was dealing with her estranged father and their new relationship.

There was only one picture of Cassy where she truly looked happy. It was not as though others would be able to tell her previous smiles were forced, but the last photograph included was of her grinning and her father hugging her as the court was called to a close. The journalist seemed assured that meant good things for the Black family. Still, she father liked it better than the icy, though flattering, photograph of her beside a youthful one of her father that had made it onto page four.

'How is he?' asked Harry.

'He should currently be at a mandatory health visit with Kingsley, but he will probably call you himself when he's back. The Ministry wants to appear to be trying to do well by him now,' she said and stretched her tired limbs. 'They are especially keen to check his psychological state after so long in Azkaban. Remus said he needs to act like anyone but himself if he wants to pass.'

There was a pause, then Harry sighed. 'I wish I was there.'

'I wish you were too,' said Cassy with a soft smile. 'I will see if I can catch Professor Dumbledore when he inevitably visits.'

'I got a letter from him yesterday, actually. He's coming to pick me up in two days at eleven at night. He's not said why,' admitted Harry.

'To here or the Burrow?' she asked. It had best not be the Burrow.

'Grimmauld Place, hopefully! He's not said where or why or anything, as usual.'

'If he were straight-forward in his answers he would lose his whimsical image,' she drawled. Her head turned towards her closed door. 'Anyway, that someone at the door. I'm expecting Tonks. There was something not right with her yesterday, but you cannot really ask in court.'

Cassy and Harry bid farewell to each other and Cassy once again climbed from the warmth of her bed. She heard the front door close downstairs and she hurriedly dressed, her hair was thrown into a messy bun and slippers adorned her feet as it was impossible to know what was crawling around the dark floors. As she reached the top of the staircase, Tonks emerged from the doorway to the kitchen below. Immediately, she peered up with dark eyes.

'I was wondering where you were. Is Sirius not here?' she said as she rounded the banisters.

'He's at a check-up. You are up strangely early considering it is not a work day,' commented Cassy. She moved away and walked towards the drawing room. Tonks followed behind and although she did not see it, Cassy was sure she shrugged her shoulders.

'I didn't sleep too much last night, so I thought I'd come earlier and we could have some lunch. You eat at weird times, so I knew if I got here early I would catch you first,' she said. She held up a white plastic bag stuffed with containers.

'It's half-ten,' said Cassy.

'Perfect lunch time then,' answered Tonks airily.

Cassy sat on a sofa and drew her legs up in front of her. She was quiet for a moment. Critically, she considered Tonks' appearance. The skin beneath her eyes had darkened, it was clear against the pale skin their shared and her shoulders slumped in a way different to her usual carelessness. She appeared tired, almost defeated in her stance, even when she began to dish out the pots of food on the coffee table. Her hair was still short, yet a mousy-brown and flat. The bubblegum pink was only occasionally swapped for an equally bright colour when not at work. The last time she had seen it such a colour were the days following Alphard's death.

'What's wrong?' asked Cassy carefully.

'Nothing's wrong, I just didn't sleep too well last night. I was a bit buzzed after the trial, especially when you all came back to mine. It didn't put me in much of a mood to sleep,' she said, grinning. 'Anyway, Sirius has told me you and Harry are together! You're supposed to tell me things like that. Go ahead and tell me everything.'

My father is a gossip, thought Cassy flatly.

'I did not tell you because it did not seem like something to write home about,' she said, rolling her eyes.

'I should know, you're the closest thing I have to a sibling, so you _have_ to tell me these things!' Although she was smiling, Tonks looked more pained than before. 'I always pictured you as more of a…'

'Lone wolf?' she offered, calculating.

There, spotted Cassy with satisfaction, Tonks flinched.

'Yeah, that's one way to put it. I always thought you'd be a bit more bookish than a romantic,' she said. 'I forgot to get plates when I was in the kitchen, so you're going to have to eat from a container. Sorry if that makes you feel like one of us peasants.'

Cassy ignored her and took the container her cousin had loaded with various brightly coloured Chinese dishes.

'I have never witnessed a romance go well, so I have a slightly jaded view, I am afraid,' she said casually.

Again, Tonks' body let out an involuntary shiver at the mere mention of romance.

Cassy frowned. Her eyes narrowed and before Tonks had the chance to smile again, Cassy spoke. 'You told Remus about your affections and he rejected you.'

The effect was instantaneous. Half the rice in Tonks' tub was thrown onto the floor and down herself when she jolted. She then froze and her brown eyes darkened further as even the faux mirth died in them. Stiffly, she lowered the fork from her mouth.

'He told you,' she said rigidly.

'No,' said Cassy honestly. 'Your demeanour gave it away.'

Tonks sighed heavily and threw her legs up onto the sofa she occupied. She did not bother to brush away the rice.

'You can be really frustrating, y'know that?' she grumbled.

'Learn to lie better then,' said Cassy flatly.

'I'm an Aurora, I'm a pretty good liar compared to most,' scoffed Tonks. She sighed again. 'I did, you're right - tell him, I mean. The night before the trial. With Bill and Fleur's engagement too, I just thought "this is it!" and for a moment I really thought it was. I told him I wanted to marry him.'

Cassy's eyes widened.

'He said it would never work, that he was too old, too broken for me,' she continued quietly. The insecurity and grief were unusually evident in her voice, it was a foreign tone to hear from her normally excitable cousin yet her face did not crumple. Her expression remained distant, evidentially unhappy, but she did not cry or even tear. 'We had been on a few dates before. He thought I liked Sirius and I told him to get a grip and we went out. Just when it started to get serious he backed away and I thought if I told him I didn't care about his condition then it might be okay, but it only made it worse.'

Silence fell.

'It must be a very difficult condition to live with,' Cassy commented steadily. Her food was left also forgotten beside her on the sofa she occupied opposite Tonks.

Tonks scowled. 'What does it matter if he turns into a bloody dog once a month? We can deal with that! Other people do it all the time. We'd live near a forest so he could chase bats in the night and I'd find him in the morning. It's only a night.'

Cassy nodded slowly. Tonks was right, yet it was impossible for Cassy not to see Remus' fears. His condition was not something he embraced, not even in the slightest. It was a slight on his character in his eyes, it devalued him so wholly that he had obvious fears being in close proximity to people who were kind to him, particularly those aware of his condition. It was obvious, so much so that all of her friends knew of his insecurity. Harry had commented on it more than once whilst lamenting his departure from the school, but they all knew he would not be able to stay if word escaped of his lycanthropy, parents would not allow it. It was that reason that Cassy truly saw the issue Remus had with being with Tonks. People would judge her on her choices, any children they had would be judged by the same cruel remarks because werewolves were only something to be feared. They were not taught in school about the struggles of an individual, but the strength and threat of the condition; they had been taught how to defend against them, not to defend them. Cassy would bet anything she owned that Remus feared tarnishing Tonks' life more than anything else. After all, werewolves had to be registered. It would be easy for someone to realise Tonks was married to a hated, supposedly dark creature.

It was thoughts like that which made Cassy all the more determined to find a cure.

'What are you going to do about it then?' she asked finally.

'I don't know. What can I do?' replied Tonks gloomily. 'You must have noticed how he didn't come for drinks back at mine yesterday.'

Cassy did notice. She had asked her father, but he had shrugged and said Remus was feeling ill. Apparently stress could sometimes bring forward the sickness leading up to his transformation, or apparently it could not, for Cassy suddenly very much doubted Remus had been unwell at all.

After a time, the pair returned to eating. The conversation moved on and at the end of the next hour, Tonks looked more genuinely cheerful than she had when she stepped through the door. The happiness did not last long. The front door soon opened and two voices, not just that of Sirius, filled the old house. A low rumbling tone of amused disapproval wove through the old floors and into the drawing room and Tonks stiffened. Cassy said nothing as the other quickly began sealing the takeaway containers again and stuffed them into the plastic bag. She brushed the rice from herself at last and gave Cassy an awkward smile.

'I'll leave this here with you. I should really be off,' she said quickly.

'Tonks,' called Cassy and the other span to face her. 'It really is not the end of the world. Any man who is not a fool would be glad to have you.'

Tonks gave her a quick half-smile before she vanished on the spot. The faint pop was muffled by the oncoming footsteps and laughter. Through the open door, Cassy saw her father first and then Remus grinning. They turned into the room and Sirius greeted her brightly.

'The test went well?' she asked, eyebrow raised.

'I need to go back every fortnight for a proper analysis, apparently. My main therapist is a bit of a git. He wants us to go for family therapy too. He thinks it will make us bond or something,' he said as he dropped down onto the recently vacated sofa.

'No,' said Cassy flatly.

'That's what I said, but it was apparently added in as part of the court order,' he said.

She growled. 'When is it?'

'Monday,' he sighed. 'What's all this, anyway?' He waved a hand towards the plastic bag that remained on the table.

'Tonks was here,' she said simply. She cast a quick eye over to Remus to find he was already watching her. 'She brought lunch.'

'She didn't stick around long,' said Sirius, frowning.

'Help yourself to whatever is left. Hello, Remus, feeling better today?' said Cassy without further explanation. She slipped past Remus and out of the room. The rustling behind her told her that Sirius was indeed helping himself to the food, but he then called out, forcing her to halt. She turned and lingered in the doorway.

'We need to think of tasks to "bond" over for Monday or they are going to assign us something, although they still assume you are living with Tonks,' said Sirius. 'So, give that some thought whilst you rummage in the attic, will you?'

Cassy's eyes lit up and narrowed. 'You can always teach me to be an animagus.'

Before he could reply, Remus cut in with a sharp cough.

'Sorry, Mama Mooney says no,' said Sirius grinning.

Remus rolled his eyes and Cassy narrowed hers a fraction further. 'We will see.'

Sirius laughed.

* * *

The next two days brought little in the way of any development of Tonks and Remus' relationship, but it had brought news of Cassy's OWL results. It was not the grades themselves, instead it was a letter announcing she had met the standard to participate in the new Alchemy class. The letter meant two things: first, that at least four other people had decided to reply and had reached the grade, and second, it meant that she had Os in Transfiguration, Potions, and Ancient Runes.

 _Dear Ms Black,_

 _I am pleased to inform you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be running a new course for NEWT entry students. Alchemy will be conducted by a new member of staff, Professor Fa Sun, who has agreed to a part-time teaching position specifically for the new sixth year class._

 _However, as you have already signed for seven OWL classes, in order to start the Alchemy course, you must agree to discontinue one of your current choices. If you go ahead with this, please write back with the listed class by August 31_ _st_ _._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Professor McGongall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress._

It was with regret that Cassy replied that she would be dropping Care of Magical Creatures. She was only too aware that Hagrid would be waiting for them all to appear, but with her now having dropped the class, it left only Neville. Harry had dropped the lesson on the fact that he did not enjoy it, he only faked enthusiasm because Hagrid was his friend, while Hermione had seven other NEWTs as she insisted on taking Arithmancy – Hermione had stopped replying to her letters when Cassy had called it useless and nothing she could not learn from a good book or common sense.

Alchemy, however, she insisted, was a critically under-studied and undervalued area of magic. It was so underdeveloped that Cassy had begun to draw upon the basic theories in relation to Lycanthropy. Particularly with recent events, the study was an even more important undertaking than before. If she was able to master both Potions and Alchemy, she was confident she could do something to intertwine the two further in some manner.

With excitement, Cassy had spent much time pondering who else may be in her class. She tried to recall who was in her classes and who might have excelled enough to be accepted. There had been an initial buzz of interest amongst the fifth years because when alchemy was mentioned everyone thought of turning lead into gold and the interest in that had seen many people seeking Professor McGonagall in the final days.

No one had come to mind in particular, no one she was certain of, however, by the time the night drew in. Her mind moved on to potential materials the class might cover. She had a basic grasp already, but that did not stop her rapid preparations. Charts and papers were littered around her room. Great sheets of parchments were stuck to the pale blue walls with scrawling writing curling around meticulously hand drawn diagrams. Sirius had mumbled his daughter was a nerd, but she had merely thrown a ball of parchment at him and ignored his whines.

The two-way mirror was on her bed. The clock high on the wall had ticked around to one o'clock, yet she kept it within reach in case Harry called. Whatever Professor Dumbledore had collected him for was taking its time to complete. The Daily Prophet had a new theory on what Harry being the Chosen One every day for the last three weeks and it seemed Professor Dumbledore was finally going to involve Harry in exactly what it meant to be the Chosen One, years too late in Cassy's opinion, but she digressed that in favour of knowing Harry might finally be preparing for the inevitable role he had to fill. The anticipation of finding out what the late-night meeting was for was eclipsed only by her continuous work. The papers had taken over much of the floor and her desk. A tall stack of books occupied the chair, a mix of school books, old ones collected from various rooms in the house, and books gifted to her by Moody at her request.

There was no doubt in her mind when she approached him that she needed to ask for further guidance on the Dark Arts. He had only been too happy to comply, he was almost overjoyed at the prospect she was taking the initiative with her education, but it had resulted in several surprise curses being sent her way at the time of the first Order meeting that summer. Mrs Weasley had not been impressed. She was even less impressed by his suggestions on how they could renovate the upstairs dining room into a duelling hall for next summer.

The radio mumbled lowly, yet the sound of rushing footsteps sounded clearly from down the landing above. Cassy paused in her sketching and readjusted her dressing gown before brushing the non-existent creases from the thin material. With her bedroom door opened a fraction, she listened carefully to the low murmurs and dull thuds from downstairs. After a few seconds of shuffling, the front door shut again. The dull, low tones of male voices continued to rumble lowly; they faded when Cassy closed her bedroom door and looked around her room. Harry would know she would be awake until he arrived and a face to face conversation between him and Sirius was probably warranted after the hours to pair had spoken the day after the trial. Sirius was only too happy for Harry to know every proceeding in his new freedom and he was only too happy to hear it. So, Cassy allowed them to speak undisturbed while she busied herself tidying her room.

Why did I not learn a cleaning spell? She lamented as she shifted the heaps of papers from her floor to her desk. They would need sorting too, but that was unimportant right then. She mourned the fact that the only people she regularly saw to ask were normally her father or Tonks and neither were exactly the cleanliest, not when the house had so many house-elves occupying it anyway. That left Remus on the odd occasion he Cassy saw him long enough to ask but with his quiet avoidance helping clean the house the year before, she very much doubted he knew any either. She needed Mrs Weasley.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Cassy dropped the papers and peeked her head through the opened crack. She squinted.

'Can I help you, Sir?' she asked.

'Maybe?' said Harry, squinting back.

'I am afraid I do not allow strangers in my home, please leave,' she said.

'I know, I know, I was supposed to call, but I fell asleep while I waited for Dumbledore,' he said and rolled his eyes.

Cassy squinted for real. 'You could not even stay awake until eleven o'clock? Really?'

'It's very boring at the Dursleys,' he protested and she hummed. Harry stared down at her smirking face and pushed the door open. Grabbing her waist, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss as burning as any Fiendfyre had ever been.

'If you can't remember my face after a week then I think we're in trouble,' he remarked.

Cassy thought that if that was how he greeted her after three weeks apart then they should be separate more often.

Instead of voicing that, she made a non-committal noise and waltzed back into the bedroom.

'Where did you go?' she asked.

Harry dropped himself unceremoniously onto her bed and sighed as he spread his limbs wide like a dog on ice.

'Dumbledore wanted some help recruiting a new teacher – Horace Slughorn, he said,' replied Harry with his eyes closed.

'Horace Slughorn?' she repeated quickly.

He turned to her with raised eyebrows.

'He's one of the best potioneers in Britain, a very well-connected man too. He is known for being able to get nearly anything he wants without ever being the centre of attention because of the amount of favours he had gained through the years,' she explained.

'Really? He just reminded me of a bloated spider with all his students as flies in his web,' he grunted.

Cassy sniggered. 'I have met him before, actually. A few times, the last being at Alphard's funeral. He gave me a card with his contact number on it.' She still had it, of course. It was buried away in a pot in her cupboard with all the other cards she had got that day. 'I just cannot believe Professor Snape will finally teach Defence.'

There was a pregnant pause and then Harry bolted upright with a loud groan. Suddenly, Cassy was glad Sirius had mentioned silencing charm on her door or else she feared he would be soon banging on her door demanding to know what that sound was about. Harry whined and flopped back down onto the pillows.

'I didn't even – I totally didn't – as if,' he mumbled, hands over his face. 'I don't want Snape anywhere near Defence. My best class is definitely my worst now.'

'How that thought did not strike you I do not know,' she said. She patted his leg patronisingly.

'At least I'll have private lessons with Dumbledore this year, that might make up for it,' he muttered.

'Pardon?' demanded Cassy. 'Private lessons?'

Harry hummed.

'It's about time,' she muttered. Her mind quickly made a list of all the topics the pair might cover. Defence and strategy would be the most obvious two. Professor Dumbledore had, after all, been engaged in numerous conflicts with Voldemort during his first attempt and of everyone it was Professor Dumbledore who he feared the most. There would certainly be value in knowing all he knew of him.

When Cassy turned back to pose her theory to Harry, his eyes were closed. His chest moved up and down slowly and deeply, his limbs spread across her bed as the lay in the very centre, fast asleep.

Cassy sighed.

* * *

 **I was going to have this up yesterday, but low and behold I found it had not saved when I wrote the first one and I had to rewrite it all. I was not impressed.**

 **Anyway, thank-you for the lovely reviews all around. You guys certainly know how to lift a girl's spirits when she needs it! I am so pleased that people responded well to the Sirius/Jane back story. It was surprisingly easy to envision and was oddly easy to write, I thought it would be really difficult. I have officially 171 reviews on C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl as of posting this chapter, which is amazing. I am so pleased with all of the responses I got for that year. I hope you have all stuck with me for another one!**

 **Earlier than normal we have Harry back in the story and I dedicated quite a lot of time in this chapter to Tonks and Remus' relationship, or rather the lack of one. I tried to stick with cannon on it, but not much is revealed about it that I know about. Remus is being stupid about it, but I sympathise with his position a lot. There is nothing worse than feeling as though you will drag someone you love down with you because of your problems and Cassy reflects feeling heavily.**

 **Let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks!**


	4. Happy birthday

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix 

**Chapter IV: Happy birthday**

The only solution suitable in the end was for Cassy to wedge herself into her own bed and shove a very deeply asleep Harry from the centre and over to the other side. He must have woke at some point in the night for when she awoke, stilled by surprise at the other occupant in her bed for a moment, he was tucked beneath the covers. He looked different without the glasses she had taken off whilst he slept. It was not a bad difference though by any means. In fact, it left Cassy quite curious as to what he would look like without them awake.

As though sensing her watchful eyes, Harry's bottle green ones opened blurrily. He glanced at her and then shut his eyes tightly, stretching, before his eyes were hidden in the crook of his elbow that rose over his face.

'You move a lot in your sleep,' he mumbled. 'You booted me awake at one point.'

'You could always have gone to your own bed,' she retorted.

'This one is much more comfortable,' he said.

Five months in a happy relationship and yet Cassy felt absolutely no guilt in at the loud thud of her boyfriend hitting the floor as the promptly kicked him from her bed.

Eventually, the pair made it downstairs to the kitchen. It was nearing ten o'clock and while neither had slept as long as they busied themselves making breakfast as they were now too awake to fall back asleep. Cassy had ejected Harry from her room to get dressed in a shirt she tucked into her skinny jeans and Harry had quickly discarded his slept in clothes and changed into fresh, less crumpled ones.

Cassy had opened every cupboard in the kitchen and had no idea where anything was. Every object had its place and she had it memorised, but now the cupboards were so stuffed with food that it was impossible to find the jam and the butter had been shoved to the back of the refrigerator and had required half the shelf of food to be removed before the butter could be extracted.

Sighing, she muttered, 'Accio jam.'

Instantly a cupboard burst open and sent food spilling across the counters and the floor. Four pots of jam shot towards her, Harry swivelled and caught two while Cassy caught one in her free hand and ducked out of the way of the other. It shattered on the wall, sending a thick purple paste splattering as one unyielding mass to the ground. For a moment, the two just stared.

'Why do you have four pots of jam?' asked Harry, amused.

Cassy, sighing again, said, 'My father seems to have been shopping and enjoyed himself immensely.' She eyed the flood of food she had caused. With a flick of her wand, it flurried back into the cupboard.

Harry leant on the kitchen counter as Cassy returned to making them both a cup of tea.

'I wonder if the post has been yet,' he said thoughtfully.

'Expecting something?' she asked, handing him a mug.

'Results are released today,' he said.

Had Cassy not long since been taught to disengage her body from her thoughts, she would have jolted at the revelation and spilt scalding tea all across her hand with a sharp demand to know why he had not told her before. Instead, she set the tea down and ascended to the kitchen door only slightly more hurried than her usual pace. There was the faint sound of moving footsteps overhead in the drawing room. She might have shouted if it was not so rude to do so and instead jumped two at a time up the next flight of stairs with Harry trailing behind with much less interest.

Sirius popped his head around the doorway.

'Dad!' said Cassy quickly.

'Dad?' repeated Harry in confusion under his breath.

'Has the post been yet?' asked Cassy, ignoring him.

'It has indeed,' smirked Sirius, waving two thick envelopes at them. Cassy plucked them from his hand without giving him time to protest. She threw Harry his and tore open her own envelope.

'Calm down,' teased Sirius.

Cassy unfolded the list.

 _Ancient Runes: O_

 _Astronomy: O_

 _Care of Magical Creatures: O_

 _Charms: O_

 _Defence Against the Dark Arts: O_

 _Herbology: O_

 _History of Magic: O_

 _Muggle Studies: E_

 _Potions: O_

 _Transfiguration: O_

She stared for a moment, before sighing heavily. That was disappointing. She had got an 'E' in something, but at least, she told herself, it was not something like Defence or Potions. She needed them but Muggle Studies was not required for her career, or her life in general, really. She had Muggle friends to learn from and she had her Muggle family now. Still, it was less than perfect.

'At least it is only Muggle Studies,' she repeated to herself aloud.

Harry turned to her in surprise. He leant over her shoulder and eyed her results before snorting loudly. He said, 'You're actually disappointed, aren't you?'

'It is not a subject that really counts, at least,' she said. 'I only took it because I have Muggleborn friends. What did you get in Potions, anyway?'

Harry shrugged. Cassy frowned.

'What did you get in Potions?' she asked again.

Harry rolled up the parchment and Sirius began chuckling behind her.

'Harry,' said Cassy, warningly. 'I tutored you in every single subject you have. Let me see your results.' She had even tutored him in Divination purely from the information she cited from a textbook.

'I'm hungry,' he said suddenly.

Thundering footsteps echoed through the house as Harry ran and Cassy gave chase. Sirius' laughter could be heard upstairs. Harry tried to slam the kitchen door behind him but Cassy was unconcerned by the underage use of magic and the door flung itself back open before she reached it and he resorted to darting around the table to keep her firmly on the other side.

'Show me,' she growled.

'They're my results!' he protested.

'I tutored you. They are at least forty-percent mine,' she retaliated.

'Forty-percent? Twenty at most!' he retorted.

'Oh? Oh, I see,' she said, hands on her hips.

He grinned from across the table.

'I think I should get to see both your results,' said Sirius as he sauntered down the stairs with a torn envelope in hand. He whistled when Cassy passed hers to him. She then held out her hand expectantly and Harry finally handed over his results with another grin.

 _Astronomy: E_

 _Care of Magical Creatures: E_

 _Charms: E_

 _Defence Against the Dark Arts: O_

 _Divination: P_

 _Herbology: E_

 _History of Magic: A_

 _Potions: O_

 _Transfiguration: O_

'You got an O!' she announced. 'You qualified for NEWT Potions!'

'I got several Os,' he said, positively beaming now.

He grunted when Cassy smacked his arm, scowling.

'That was cruel,' she said and Sirius took the paper from her. 'You got an O in Transfiguration too, though Defence was a given, of course.'

'I even scraped a pass in History even though I collapsed,' he said brightly. His expression fell when he noticed Cassy's sudden look of horror. 'What's wrong?'

She turned to him with wide eyes. 'What if Hermione got ten Os?'

Sirius snorted and Harry huffed a laugh at her mortified face.

'I think these results deserve a celebration,' said Sirius warmly. 'Oh, Harry? You might want this.' He handed the envelope over and Harry tipped it to reveal a scarlet pin reading: 'Quidditch Captain'.

'It's about time,' said Cassy.

* * *

There was very little to do in Grimmauld Place. The days of the holiday began to blur together as they were confined to the house. Sirius and Cassy could leave, but as Harry could not the two tended to stay as well. Sirius was more inclined to visit Remus for a few hours, while Cassy did not venture out to London's city centre, she did occasionally go to see Tonks on the other side of the city to leave Harry and Sirius time to themselves. The only time the pair left together was when they attended the ridiculous family therapy sessions in which Cassy barely spoke and Sirius rarely did what the therapist asked.

No letters from Hermione came and Cassy had not sent her one either. The longer she went without receiving one, the more certain she was that Hermione had not earnt ten 'Os' either, or else she certainly would have said so. One from Neville celebrated his well-deserved 'O' in Herbology and there were four paragraphs dedicated to his 'E' in Defence and how proud his Grandmother was. She had even brought him a new wand to replace his father's old one he had been using for the last five years. Cassy had written a letter and sent it the Muggle way to her own grandparents about her results and the promise she would visit again before summer was over.

After several slow evenings, Sirius called Cassy and Harry downstairs and ushered them out of the front door. Curiously, they look around, first spotting Remus and then their eyes were drawn to what he sat on at the kerb. Shining in the light of the setting Sun, large and black was a motorcycle. Sirius patted it, explaining how he had ventured to Hagrid's that morning to reclaim his old vehicle. Remus tapped Harry's head and like water racing down his body, his image suddenly shifted into that of Neville, albeit taller.

'Can't have anyone seeing you,' he said at Harry's bewildered expression.

'I thought it might be fun to teach you both how to ride this old girl,' said Sirius, patting the seat fondly.

Cassy looked at it dubiously; as long as it gave a different sensation to a flying a broom, she would give it a go, she supposed in the end. Despite being initially reluctant, she did climb onto the old motorcycle and her father had an issue trying to get her off again once Cassy realised if she set off from the very end of the road she could easily accelerate to fifty miles-per-hour before screeching to a stop at the other end and that was far more exhilarating that any broomstick lesson ever had been. She and Harry took turns riding around the street, much to the displeasure of the neighbours who wondered who the well-dressed strangers were on such a deviant vehicle. In the end, they went inside at the promise that when it is dark one night, Sirius would show them the flying booster he had installed, though he was very ambiguous when Cassy squinted and asked him if that was passed by the Ministry first.

A few days later, Cassy and Harry had returned to lying around the house for lack of anything better to do. Harry had been out a few times under a glamour charm, but never far and never to anywhere magical. They had ventured to the nearest corner shop to purchase an entire plastic bag full of sweets and cans of fizzy drinks in another and then proceeded to lounge all morning with only the radio chattering in the background. One of the Weird Sister's new songs filled the air, though Harry liked it much more than Cassy – they had got a new cellist and she was not fond. Her feet lay across Harry's lap and a half-completed Rubix Cube in her hands. Surrounding them were packets of sweets, half-eaten or already gone. Small, thin sticks lay around Cassy's feet from where Harry had clipped his broomstick's tail and the air was thick with the scent of polish.

'I have been thinking,' announced Cassy absently.

'How dare you,' said Harry, equally as distant.

'I think you should continue the DA,' she said. 'We almost all died last month and as much as Professor Snape might be a competent teacher, there is no teacher who can truly prepare you for war within a year or two.'

Harry hummed, 'I think we do need to practise, but I don't want to lead an entire class again. I didn't intend to do it last time when we had Umbridge, let alone try and do it under Snape's nose. Besides, if I'm as popular as the papers make me out to be then half the bloody school will be trying to join.'

'Keep it a secret then,' she suggested, nonchalantly.

Footsteps rounded up the stairs and neither teen looked up when they halted in the doorway.

'Cassy, stop doing underage magic to change the wards on the roof. Thank-you for addressing the chimney problem, though, I heard the neighbours questioning where the bricks in the back garden had come from yesterday,' said Sirius.

'The wards are weakest on the roof, though, if anyone did attack, it would be very easy for it just to cave in and kill us all anyway,' she said, completing the yellow side of the cube.

'The Fidelius is taking care of that, no one is getting through that any time soon,' said Sirius pointedly, as though the protection of the house was not a good enough reason to break the law.

'There are ways of it failing though and then it would make the most sense to attack the roof as the door and foundations are always most heavily guarded,' said Cassy flippantly. 'Besides, we are in London where there are many magical families and I have been doing magic all year like this and I have not received a single letter. You cannot talk anyway, judging from the permanent sticking charms on those Gryffindor posters in your bedroom.'

'Cheeky. Stay out of my bedroom.'

Cassy did not reply. She dipped her hand into a nearby sweet bag and leisurely ate without once looking up at him. It was rude, but then he had flung the greasy first pancake at her that morning and in no way did she believe it was an accident.

'You two really need to go outside more,' commented Sirius after a moment.

'I would love to if Voldemort wouldn't kill me at first sight like everyone keeps telling me,' said Harry.

'Get your shoes on,' he snorted.

'Why?' asked Harry.

'Get up!' said Sirius when neither teen moved.

With a great deal of manoeuvring the various sweet packets from on and around them, the pair eventually retrieved their shoes and met Sirius back in the drawing room. He held out an arm each expectantly and Harry raised a questioning eyebrow while Cassy merely continued to brush sugar from her dress. Then, a familiar swirling sensation pulled at their stomachs and the grand old room blurred and gave way to a bright light and dusty ground. Long, unkempt grass tickled Cassy's legs through the thin fabric of her tights, a rickety fence was not far away and before she turned she knew where Sirius had taken then. Expectantly, she looked at the tall house, wonky and mismatched from years of self-taught construction and most likely less than legal attempts to construct new doors and fascias in the muggle way.

'I was going to take you both here later as a surprise for your birthday, Harry, I'm sure Molly will love to have you now anyway,' said Sirius, already trudging up the beaten pathway.

Off the one side, Cassy noticed Luna hidden partially behind a tree with a large book in her hands, staring at them with large, unblinking eyes. Cassy waved and it looked as though Luna was having a debate whether or not it was worth standing to greet them. Beside her sat Neville, so close that their knees were touching, who beamed at her.

Harry grinned at the familiar sight of the house.

'Cassy! Harry!' came a shout.

They turned to the field and immediately spotted Ginny sprinting towards them. Behind her was Ron, who was lowering himself to the ground from his broomstick and Ginny's was in her hand.

Ginny held her arms out for a hug and Cassy sidestepped her. Undeterred, Ginny realigned her target for Harry, who hugged her back, beaming.

'Watch out for Phlegm,' said Ginny, crinkling her nose.

'What?' said Harry.

'Fleur,' clarified Cassy and Harry nodded knowingly, having heard all about Cassy's last visit to the Burrow.

'Happy birthday, Harry!' called Ron from a distance.

His shout seemed to have summoned his mother, for she stuck her head through the window with a cry of delight. She bustled out the door and threw her arms around Harry's neck tightly.

'Happy birthday, sweetheart,' she greeted. She turned to Cassy. 'Hello again, Cassy. Is that a new dress? It's lovely, dear.'

Cassy smiled at Mrs Weasley, but her attention was torn between her and Harry, or rather the blonde woman who had taken his face into her hands and was eagerly placing kisses on both cheeks in rapid concession. Harry pulled back and blinked owlishly at Fleur as she grinned.

''Arry Potter,' she said, 'it iz nice to see you again.'

Cassy turned away as Mrs Weasley planted herself between them and instead she looked to the little group just visible through the window. The sunlight glinted brightly on the pane and it made the lip movements difficult to read. Bill, Remus, and Mr Weasley were huddled inside still, close together and with stern faces. Whatever they were talking about was clearly not meant to be overheard. Cassy crept closer. Standing as casually as she could to the door and out of sight of both it and the window, she inclined her head to listen.

'What could they want with Florean Fortescue though?' asked Bill.

'He must have known something we didn't, or refused one too many times to help,' said Remus bitterly.

'He got a lot of trade. I imagine he would be a great source of information for the Death Eaters,' sighed Mr Weasley. 'He must have refused.'

Ollivander had been taken last week too. Sirius had told them although the papers had been quiet about it all. His shop was nearly destroyed and no traces of who had taken him or where he had gone had been salvaged. He was the greatest wandmaker in Britain, so it was only natural he might be used to fuel Voldemort's army.

'Cassy, dear, you don't want to be listening to that,' called Mrs Weasley.

The conversation was suddenly halted and Cassy sighed heavily, irritated. She smiled pleasantly and said, 'I was going to see Neville and Luna, but I caught a bit and was curious.'

'What's happened?' asked Ron loudly.

'Nothing you need to worry about,' said Mrs Weasley quickly.

'Is it more about Olivander?' asked Harry.

'Olivander?' repeated Ginny, frowning. 'What happened to Ollivander?'

Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to undoubtedly end the conversation, but Harry spoke faster.

'He went missing last Thursday,' he told her.

Ginny's eyes widened and she paled slightly at the news. Mrs Weasley audibly growled and rounded on Sirius, who looked at her from the corner of his eye flatly, as though having expected it. Remus, Bill, and Mr Weasley stepped to the door warily. Mr Weasley put his hands up to placate his wife, but was too slow.

'Stop telling them things, Sirius! What is the matter with you? They are children. They don't need to know everything. You might as well induct them in the Order today at this rate!' she snapped and Sirius had yet to take his hands from his trouser pockets.

Unfazed, he said, 'They have made it quite clear to me that they intend to join when they are seventeen anyway. I cannot stop them when Cassy comes of age in a few months and Harry is Voldemort's prime target. Do you want to keep information from them, Molly? In a war? A war that they will have to fight in? I do not want them in this, but they are and I do not see the harm in telling them who is missing and who is not. I do not tell them of the missions or the plans, just little interesting, good to know bits of information. They are my responsibility and if it helps keep them alive then yes, I will tell them things.' His voice was cold and harsh. It was not a tone Cassy had heard before and everyone around them stiffened in wariness and surprise. His normal anger was explosive, but Sirius seemed to have grown tired of the constant debates with Mrs Weasley, though from his words Cassy wondered if something more had occurred.

Mrs Weasley had been very kind the last time they had visited. She had celebrated Sirius' freedom like the rest of them, but, Cassy supposed, the two could not excuse the other's parenting styles so easily. From his words, it sounded as if Mrs Weasley had accused him of deriving enjoyment from their precarious position in the war. Even for her fiery bluntness, that sounded harsh, yet their battles had always been heated. Perhaps Sirius had simply grown tired of being undermined.

Mrs Weasley's face coloured. She opened her mouth to speak and then turned sharply on her heel and strode back into the house and slammed the door behind her without a word. Beside it stood Hermione, who seemed to have emerged from the house during Sirius' cold speech. He eyed the door in defiance, before turning and greeting Remus as though nothing had happened.

'When did you get here?' asked Cassy as they all followed Ron back into the field.

'A few days ago,' said Hermione. 'Ginny invited me up for the week.'

'How are your parents?' Cassy eyed Hermione's blackened eye but did not comment for the other seemed to be intent to hide it with her hair.

'They're good. They've just expanded their dental practice, actually. With me not at home, they have decided to build it up and so one day they can step back from it. They have always wanted to go to Australia, you see, but their work means they can't go for nearly as long as they would have liked, so they keep putting it off. If they have people working for them to cover, then they might be able to go for two whole months next summer,' chattered Hermione conversationally.

Ron turned to them all when they neared a giant oak tree in the middle of the field.

'You might want to be careful what you say around Mum,' he said. 'She's been jumpy all month. The slightest joke and she threatens to take us out of Hogwarts.'

'Why?' demanded Harry.

'She thinks it's not safe anymore,' said Ron uneasily.

'Unsafe?' laughed Harry incredulously. 'That's mad.'

'She doesn't really like us out of her sight. The whole thing with the Ministry scared her. She said if it was that easy for us to leave the grounds, then it won't be that difficult to get something in,' sighed Ginny and dropped down onto the ground beside Cassy and Hermione.

'Yeah, she's terrified to go to Diagon Alley now. You're coming with us, Harry, she's demanded it,' said Ron.

'I think it's because she'll feel better knowing you're safe when you go,' interjected Hermione at the sight of Harry's raised eyebrows.

'That's really unnecessary,' he mumbled. 'Sirius and Remus already said they'll go with me anyway. I don't want a hoard of people keeping an eye on me.'

'I don't think you have much of a choice,' drawled Ginny. 'She's been like that all summer. It's unbearable, really.'

'How are your summers?' he asked them all.

'Quite well, thank-you,' said Luna lightly. 'Daddy ran an article on what happened at the Ministry. Did you read it?'

Cassy had read it. It was less on the actual events and more about the various conspiracies the older Lovegood had about the government. It did label Harry as the Chosen One, however, but that was more or less the only truthful piece of information in it.

'Mine was good,' said Hermione, eyeing Luna warily.

'It's been insufferable with the Phlegm here,' said Ginny wistfully. 'Mum keeps trying to push Bill and Tonks together, but it doesn't seem to be working. She'd be a much better sister-in-law than her.'

'Fleur is all right,' said Harry easily and Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust. Hermione even growled.

Idly, Cassy wondered if there was something she was missing. Of course, Fleur was beautiful and she knew and flaunted it, that was obvious, yet she was also intelligent enough and has displayed that she was adept in magic. She had even left home at eighteen and moved to a different country to follow her goals in her career, so she had to have some bravery and ambition about her too. With no real care either way, Cassy contemplated the fact that perhaps they hated her merely on her looks and attention, because if it was due to her apparent conceitedness and snobbery, then Hermione and Ginny were in for a shock if they met any noble Pureblood, politician, or public figure.

'She's so air-headed,' grunted Hermione, apparently not remembering she was sitting next to Luna.

'She jumps out at you all the time too,' said Ginny.

Harry blinked. 'She competed in the Tri-Wizard tournament, though. The cup chose her as the most worthy, she has to be smart and talented to some degree.'

Cassy smiled. Harry was as kind as ever.

'Don't you start,' muttered Ginny scathingly. 'I've had enough from that one, thank-you!'

She jabbed her thumb at Ron, who protested loudly while Ginny made mock kissing faces at the imaginary Fleur with Ron's pretend voice several octaves higher than her own normal one. Ron smacked her with his broomstick and a fight broke out that no one bothered to break up out of curiosity who would prevail.

During the brawl, Hermione turned to Cassy and scrutinised her for a moment before asking for her OWL grades. Hesitantly, still somewhat embarrassed by her lack of ten Os, she responded and Hermione seemed to droop.

'I got nine Os,' she admitted gloomily. 'I got an E in Defence.'

Cassy felt an inappropriate rush of elation. She may have received the same total number of Os as Hermione, but her E was at least in something less important that defence. Still, Cassy patted her shoulder in a distant sort of comfort, uncertain of what she could possibly say that Neville was not already.

In the end, Bill pulled Ginny and Ron apart and took away the flailing broomsticks after he spotted them from an upstairs window. Neither were particularly injured, though several blotches of yellow had broken out over their freckled skin from where they had swung their brooms like swords.

The remainder of the day was spent eating wonderful foods and handing Harry presents once Mrs Weasley calmed down enough that it was deemed safe enough to go inside. The cake was homemade as expected, chocolate and rich and after dinner they had treacle tart, Harry's favourite, for dessert.

The topic of the war was avoided. No one spoke of it, not even Sirius, though the grim expression on Remus' face the entire day spoke volumes about the Order of the Phoenix's progress. Cassy inwardly hoped it was regret for rejecting Tonks, but Remus was a stubborn man. Although she wanted to probe, it was neither the time nor the place and Tonks would not thank her for it anyway. Instead, she traipsed outside with the others to watch Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron play Quidditch whilst she sat in the shade of the oak tree with Neville and Luna.

She had been offered George's old broom, but she refused adamantly. She was not going in the air. The trip on the Thestral had been somewhat enjoyable, but brooms were nasty things, she had said. Harry narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully, though he said nothing more and took to the sky. It was him and Hermione against Ron and Ginny. Hermione was dreadful and Ginny was good, so the teams were fairly evenly matched until Ron put some genuine effort into his play and Harry had to work doubly as hard to keep the scores even.

It was dusk when they returned to Grimmauld Place. The sky was a dusty pink, splattered with faint, distant clouds and orange bursts. Remus joined them and they spent the night encased in stories of James and Lily. Sirius and Remus had unearthed old photographs, ones absent from Harry's photo album he received from Hagrid in first-year. They talked them through each one and there was a photograph of Sirius and Lily in fifth-year, much to Cassy and Harry's surprise, one that had been taken by Marlene McKinnon as evidence of their 'friendship', as she had insisted. Sirius said it was after she had lost her best-friend, Snape, and he had learnt her sister considered her a freak for her magic after eavesdropping whilst hiding from Professor McGonagall one morning. They were not truly friends until seventh-year, but they had reached an understanding neither thought possible until then.

The photograph had Sirius, already tall and willowy, beside a much shorter girl with shoulder-length auburn hair. She was glaring at him, although not quite maliciously and more in an amused irritation in the Potions classroom that was very dissimilar from the one they had today.

Harry snorted. 'Your hair's in a bun!'

'I rocked that bun!' insisted Sirius.

'Yet you cut it off pretty quickly when Lily said that it made you look like Snape from behind,' teased Remus.

Cassy and Harry broke out into howls of laughter and Sirius' face scrunched tightly.

* * *

 **Ta-da!**

 **I toyed with the idea of making Cassy have perfect OWL grades, but then I didn't want her to seem smarter than Hermione necessarily. So, I stuck to Hermione's grades and made Cassy a little bit less than perfect in Muggle Studies, because to be honest, I imagine the class to be hard! If not for the amount of material you need to cover, the wizarding interpretation of Muggles to them be externally marked would be vastly different and therefore it would be a class where it would have to be the accepted view or nothing. I hate those classes.**

 **Anyway, I was asked to recommend some stories and to be honest, I've been having trouble finding some good Harry Potter ones myself. If there is any that you think are great then let me know because I could always do with a few more to read.**

 **Thanks!**


	5. Detours in Diagon Alley

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter V: Detours in Diagon Alley**

Although Cassy had spent much of the morning teasing Harry about the pack of Aurors that were going to be following his every move around Diagon Alley, when they entered the Leaky Cauldron, they were greeted with the sight of the Weasleys, Hermione, and Hagrid and no purple-robed Ministry individuals. His shoulder's sagged in relief and he glared at Cassy, who beamed innocently, having known very well that Hagrid was going to be the only extra protection Professor Dumbledore had sent to guard him.

They did not stop for drinks, but rather Mrs Weasley ushered them all into the street with a nervous titter.

'Ginny needs new books, so Arthur and I can take her there, Ron and Harry need new robes,' she muttered.

'I have some things to sort out whilst I'm here, so I will catch up with you all later,' announced Sirius.

Remus smiled. 'I should go with him or he'll get himself into trouble.'

Mrs Weasley eyed Cassy, Harry, Hermione, and Ron for a moment, before she shepherded her husband and daughter away towards the bookstore. The four were left in Hagrid's company and they chatted idly all the way down the highstreet. It was fortunate really that everyone was so busy looking as inconspicuous as possible that they failed to recognise Harry as he passed. Many heads of the passers-by were ducked low, their movements hurried and their bodies shrunk inwards to make themselves appear as small as possible. Fear was alive in the air, but Cassy did not move to seek shelter in the nearest shop as the other occupants of the street did. Instead, she halted outside of Ollivander's Wand shop in the centre of the street.

She had not entered since buying her wand five years ago, yet the packed, wonky shelves, high ladder and high counter were still clearly seen in her mind's eye. Now there was an empty shell. The sign was more or less entirely burnt, the gold leaf that had read 'Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C' was barely visible beneath the soot and ashes that clouded the front of the store. The door was caved in and footprints marred the old tiles, small and uneven, as though excited youths had taken the opportunity to rummage through what the Ministry had not already removed.

'Oh no,' breathed Hermione, her hands cupped over her mouth.

'C'mon,' urged Hagrid. 'Nothing can be done now.'

He ushered them inside Madam Malkin's. His broad frame obscured most of the window where he stood outside, arms on his hips as though guarding the store. Madam Malkin spared them a short, concerned look as the bell jingled and the door closed. She glanced towards Hagrid, pins in her mouth and unable to comment, though she appeared clearly displeased at the deterrent; her business must have been suffering if the current number of shoppers were anything to judge by. Although, Cassy rather wished her business was suffering just a little bit more.

'If you were wondering what that smell was, Mother, a Mudblood has just walked in.'

Cassy eyed Malfoy flatly. He stood upon a small podium, a tape measure wrapping itself around various limbs. Kneeling, Madam Malkin made a small noise of protest at the word as she stuck pins into his trouser legs.

'What on Earth is wrong with your eye, Granger? Who did it? I want to thank them,' he chortled.

Instantly, wands were drawn and Harry and Ron had theirs pointed at Malfoy with deep scowls and eyes that dared him to slander Hermione one more time. Cassy turned and idly picked through the nearest clothing rack. Ignoring him would only annoy him more and Hermione certainly seemed not to care for his words.

'Don't bother, guys,' said Hermione, tugging gently on their arms. 'He's not worth it.'

Cassy could feel eyes burning into the side of her skull before she heard Draco address her.

'I suppose you're looking for a new dress for your next press release? Become quite the little attention-whore since your daddy's been released, but then again I suppose you always were,' he said coldly.

She turned and met his cold smirk with a bright smile. With her lips pulled unnaturally far across her cheeks, she said gleefully, 'How funny it is you said that! I have an interview for next week, actually. The Prophet asked for an inside view into the life of Lucius Malfoy and I was happy to help tell that story.'

Stumbling on his unfitted robe, Malfoy charged towards her. Snorts sounded from Harry and Ron and Harry pressed his wand firmly into the side of Malfoy's neck when he decided he was quite close enough to Cassy. She just stood and smiled expectantly, as though it was all part of a lovely conversation.

'Will you put your wands away!' squawked Madam Malkin. She stood quickly and drew Cassy's attention from Malfoy. It was not the seamstress that Cassy then pinned her piercing gaze on, but the towering figure behind her.

'How dare you,' breathed Narcissa. 'He raised you.'

Cassy regarded her coolly. 'So did you, yet you both forgot me when your Master returned.'

'Don't worry about him. You'll soon be reunited with your husband,' said Harry snidely.

'You best get all your joke and jibes out now, Potter, while Dumbledore is still able to protect you,' responded Narcissa calmly. 'He will not be around forever.'

Harry fanned his arms out around him. 'Where is he now?'

'Harry, don't,' hissed Hermione.

'That's right, Potter, listen to the Mudblood,' jeered Malfoy.

Madam Malkin, who had wrangled him back onto the podium, squeaked again at the slur and suddenly Malfoy howled and flung himself from the stand.

'Oh, come now, Draco, we both know worth is not determined by blood. After all, who exactly would favour you? A brat on his father's coattails and a boy who was failing Charms. How were your results?' drawled Cassy.

'You would be surprised who favours me,' he said icily.

Those words stuck in Cassy's mind. They were emboldened, underlined, and flagged for further consideration; her thoughts whirled a little more when Narcissa slipped her hand onto her son's arm and squeezed it just barely.

'Do not worry about such words,' said Narcissa, her mouth inches from his ear and her tone soft and soothing. 'Some people are born with a sickness and it makes them envious of those above them and sometimes, as much as you try, they cannot be cured.'

Hermione sniffed and Harry and Ron both went to raise their wands again as Malfoy smirked. Cassy spoke quicker, though.

'I am happy to have been born sick.' It was only a short sentence, delivered without any emotion behind it, yet not with a cold blankness. Her gaze remained thoughtful and her tone conversational. It wiped the smile from her cousins' faces and saw them exit the shop without another word in the direction of the four Gryffindors. If she had reacted, it only would serve to suggest she was insecure about her blood and it was something that would be brought up again and again as Malfoy sought to intimidate and distance himself from her further. If she was confident then perhaps she had a chance of persuading him that she was right and that Voldemort was not. If she presented herself as assertive and strong, he might just believe in her long enough to believe in her cause. The day had set that mission off on a bad track already though.

When they exited the store, Madam Malkin seemed glad to be rid of them. Hagrid cast an enquiring eye at them at the sight of the fleeing Malfoys, but it was brushed aside as they met with Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny again. Mrs Weasley had bags full of books for them all and waited outside as Cassy, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny entered the apothecary for their Potion ingredients. Ron had elected not to take it, citing that he had only got an 'E' in his OWL and, therefore, did not reach the 'O' needed to take it for NEWT.

Hermione scrutinised Cassy's purchase with suspicion clear on her face for Cassy had brought almost twice the stated amount of ingredients and some other rather more unusual ones, which she maintained were for educational purposes. They were, of course, just for purposes not on the class' specification.

The further down the Alley they walked, the more unusual and curious stalls began to appear. Some were covered by thick canopies and others appeared as though they had been pulled straight from a dining room table top. Necklaces and trinkets, cloaks and hats, wands, gems, and brightly coloured potions were all for sale with the expressed purpose of ensuring a higher chance of survival in battle. None of them would work, of course, Cassy was certain of that. Many of the people behind the stalls called out to them with well-rehearsed lines and practised smiles, most likely having ventured from Knockturn Alley to take the opportunity to swindle the vulnerable and afraid.

Mr Weasley growled as one called out to Ginny, 'If I was on duty – '

'C'mon now, let's just hurry up,' hushed Mrs Weasley.

It was not long before their destination became visible for it was impossible to miss. Whilst the rest of the Alley had settled to appear as inconspicuous as possible with covered windows and dulled notices, glittering lights and swirling signs called the attention off all those around towards a large shop titled: 'Weasley Wizarding Wheezes'. Advertisements of new products lined the windows, but through what few gaps there were the bulging crowd of eager customers was obvious. They were packed in and the sound of dozens of people talking all at once was very audible from outside even without the door open.

'Oh my,' breathed Mrs Weasley.

Cassy turned to see her face pale and her hands cupped tightly over her mouth. Following her owlish gaze, she saw a large, purple sign that read:

 _Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?_

 _You SHOULD Be Worrying About U-No-Poo –_

 _the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!_

Harry and Ron laughed while Mrs Weasley moaned deeply into her hands, her eyes tracing the sign again.

'They're going to be killed,' she muttered.

'They're going to be rich,' countered Ron.

The bell tolling to signal their entry was barely heard above the chatter. There was no easy way to get close to any of the displays. From a distance, they saw that many familiar products lined the shelves – Skiving Snackboxes, Invisible Hats, quills that turned into other objects. Amongst them were new products too. Self-answering quills and hangman with little wooden figures slowly building an execution platform with every wrong guess were both drawing large pools of interested bodies to them. Another popular display was a large one near the counter. Patented Daydream Charms promised a high-quality, realistic dream with only a mild vacant expression as a result.

'What brilliant magic!' praised Hermione as she read the sign aloud.

'Why thank-you. For that, you can have a bottle for free,' came a low voice behind them. They all turned to see Fred, dressed more immaculately that Cassy had ever seen him before. His suit was a dark yellow, checkered with brown and distinctly noticeable. It was well-made, though; he had certainly taken the opportunity to purchase better attire at long last.

Fred blinked suddenly. 'What happened to your eye, Hermione?'

Hermione growled. 'I picked up one of those blasted telescopes of yours and a hand shot out and punched me!'

'Oh,' said Fred slowly. 'I didn't realise we had any of those still at home. Hang on, take this.' He handed her a small pot of cream from his pocket. 'It's perfectly safe. George and I designed it ourselves. We test a lot of our ideas on ourselves, you see, so we needed something a bit stronger to get rid of any marks. It should have your eye cleared up in no time.'

Cassy took the pot from her and the two edged behind the counter and out of the way bustling crowd. Thickly, she coated Hermione's eye with paste. Almost immediately, the deep blackness began to fade and the swollen tissue began to retract down to normal size. Hermione peered at herself in the reflection of a nearby mirror.

'I don't understand how they only got three OWLs each,' said Hermione, touching her face gingerly.

'Not everyone who is clever is academic,' answered Cassy nonchalantly. 'You should get one of those potions, by the way. It could be interesting if nothing else.'

Hermione hummed and pocketed one with a nod to the cashier, who had heard the conversation. They pass Ginny, who had her face almost pressed to a cage of pink and purple balls of fluff labelled as 'Pygmy Puffs: Miniature Puffskins', though they looked like coloured cotton balls with tiny eyes. They squeaked and rolled at the sight of Ginny's probing fingers, purring as they all clambered to climb onto her hand.

'Can I have one, Mum?' asked Ginny to Mrs Weasley who stood behind her.

Cassy turned away and quickly let out a sharp puff of air from between her teeth at the sight of the next display. Hermione sighed deeply. Red hearts bloomed from a glittering dish and floated into the air lazily. In little glass bottles were love potions, designed to infatuate the target with the user for an undetermined amount of time. Weak ones might make their thoughts consumed with the giver while more potent ones caused the symptoms of love without any genuine emotion behind it. They were useless and manipulative and Cassy thought they should be banned from being sold because any consent under a love potion was no consent at all. She rounded back to Fred and George and told them exactly that.

'They're not that powerful!' protested George immediately. 'They make people a little smitten, but they don't blind them of all reason, I promise.'

'They're for a joke, you know, give your friend one and watch him trip over himself for an hour or two. They're for that kind of thing,' insisted Fred.

'That's not how Love Potions work, though, is it?' asked Hermione tartly, having joined Cassy's protest the moment it was voiced. 'They can become stronger if left to mature. I bet even yours can do that.'

'Who keeps a Love Potion for months like that?' retorted Fred.

'This, Harry, is Instant Darkness Powder imported from Peru. If you ever need a diversion, like we do now, just throw a chunk of this down,' said George and piled a handful of stones into Harry's already burdened hands.

'You're not paying for it, of course. Everything here is free for you,' added Fred.

'What?' asked Harry dumbly.

'You gave us our start-up money, so you can have anything you like,' repeated George.

'I can't accept – '

'Harry,' sighed the twins together.

In the end, Harry had no choice but to accept it because Fred and George departed to see to a customer enquiry and they had all heard the strict instructions Fred shouted to the cashier, Verity, not to take any payment Harry might try to make. Harry stared flatly and they grinned at him uncaringly. After they left, Cassy eyed the mound of products already in Harry's arms.

'Have you been to the backroom?' she questioned, noting that many of the products appeared to lack proper packaging.

'Yeah, they've been working on a serious line too. Shield Hats and the like. The Ministry have been ordering them in bulk, apparently,' said Harry.

Cassy raised an eyebrow. Hermione snorted.

When they turned back around, Fred and George were no longer speaking to a customer, but to their sister, who was in front of the large, pink display Cassy and Hermione had passed disgruntled moments ago. Close enough to make out their words, the three turned to watch Fred do his best to dissuade his younger sibling's interest.

'They can work up to twenty-four hours, depending on the weight of the boy and the attractiveness of the girl. Although, we're not selling them to our sister, not when she already has five boys on the go from what we've heard,' he said, a tiny bottle held up to the light.

Ginny regarded them calmly, although Cassy noticed the slight clench of her jaw. She said, 'Whatever you've heard from Ron is a lie.'

'What about me?' called Ron, bustling behind Hermione with many boxes in his arms.

George gave the merchandise an appraising look and promptly asked for three Galleons.

'I'm your brother!' squawked Ron.

'Don't go telling lies,' said Ginny coldly and flipped her hair over her shoulder in a fashion reminiscent of Fleur. 'I'm only dating one boy – Dean Thomas.'

Ron blanched. The boxes were soon scattered across the floor; George's outraged protest went unheard as Ron rounded on his sister with unyielding demands to know what she meant by the fact that she was dating one of his best friends. Ginny merely shrugged carelessly. Ron's approval on who she dated never mattered to her. The boxes were kicked across the tiles as Ron stepped closer/ Ginny's hands were on her hips, their voices grew louder with each passing word.

Cassy watched the scene with only mild interest. Easily, she turned back to Harry and Hermione, ready to usher them to a quieter spot of the shop where customers were not glancing at them curiously. When she did, Harry's eyes were not transfixed on the fight, but rather out of the window. Cassy craned her neck. There were many heads in the way, the bustling bodies and waving limbs that packed the shop obscured the window, but then, just as the was about to relent and simply ask what he found so curious, movement past the glass door caught her eye; Malfoy strode by, very much alone.

'Oh, that _is_ interesting,' she said aloud and Harry turned back to her.

'Did you see him?' he asked.

She nodded and looked to Hermione, who was frowning thoughtfully, no doubt having seen him too. 'Isn't that where Knockturn Alley starts?'

'It is,' conceded Cassy.

'I think this shop's a little crowded for us,' muttered Harry. Out from his bag came the Invisibility Cloak that had yet to fail them, as curious as that was, for the cloak should really have been fading after years of enchantment. As long as it lasted them today, Cassy was willing to push that curious thought aside for another time.

Quickly, the Cloak was over the three of them and they passed out of the door and beyond Hagrid outside. They hurried down the street, reminded that they had certainly grown since they were eleven. It was fortunate that Cassy was shorter than most and Hermione was veering only just above average height. Harry was the true issue, having grown considerably over the summer. It was no longer as easy to navigate tight passages without the threat of revealing their ankles or collide as three nearly grown teens tried to fit into gaps large enough for only one person. They turned into Knockturn Alley and it was only Cassy who had any idea of the path they now took as they weaved after her cousin.

The street was just as she remembered it. There was an unnatural darkness that shrouded the twisting pathways. The Sun always seemed to forget about the district, or perhaps it was the corrupt and questionable activities of the occupants that polluted the air and dimmed the brightness, enabling them to continue their undertakings hidden and unseen. The streets were always in disrepair. The Ministry assigned money to the upkeep as it did everywhere else, but it never seemed to make it to the places that needed it. In fact, Cassy could not recall a point in time where she had ever seen anything fixed beyond a temporary patch of a sign, or cement if one was really lucky.

The people themselves had not changed either. They still inspected every passing person with scathing and critical eyes, though avoided turning directly and making eye-contact. Some were in rags and mumbled to themselves, long since deranged and having nothing more than the clothing on their backs to their names; others walked with strength and in suits of the finest Italian cloth, people like her cousins and Alphard, who had prowled the streets' more secret and yet more well-known shops for the merchandise that was impossible to find anywhere else.

At the same time, the street was almost empty. The Ministry had openly threatened to dismantle the area many times, but it seemed with the constant raids of homes and businesses that people were growing wary of their questionable trade. It did not stop them entirely, though, for many still lurked, probably correct in thinking that with Voldemort out there that the Ministry had larger issues than a black market and off-record sales.

Malfoy finally stopped walking. With a pause, he entered a large shop with cabinets packed with skulls and old bottles, high shelves full of dusty tomes with no writings on their spines. Without looking at the sign, Cassy knew that shop.

Borgin and Burkes sold many interesting items, some of the most expensive in all of Knockturn Alley even. She had been inside many times, never allowed to touch for items tended to have a mind of their own. It had certainly taught her about patience when the furniture began to insult her as Alphard spoke to the shopkeeper.

While Cassy could lipread to some extent, she could only clearly make out the movement of Malfoy's lips. From memory, Borgin was a man with an unusually long drawl to his words, so they were slightly more difficult to understand and it helped even less that in the years of her absence, he had grown a beard.

'I can't hear anything,' hissed Hermione.

'Open the door a bit,' said Harry.

The door opened a fraction. The moment the frame collided gently with the bell dangling above it, Hermione halted. She and Harry crouched closely to the gap, while Cassy stood behind them and watched carefully through the dirty door window.

'Tell me how to fix it,' sounded Malfoy's voice clearly through the crack.

'I need to see it,' said Borgin, his voice was an octave higher than what Cassy thought sounded strictly natural. He fumbled around just out of view and his voice lowered with it beyond hearing range. She was confident it was a rejection of advice because Borgin would want the money from the repair himself, but also because while he was not visible, the glower that then marred Malfoy's face was.

'Maybe this will make you more confident,' he hisses and stepped towards him, also now from the view, even as Cassy craned to the main window.

A loud, sharp intake of air shot through the silent air.

'Tell anyone and you will find yourself entertaining Fenrir Greyback. He's a family friend, you see,' drawled Malfoy coldly. Borgin spluttered and Malfoy paid him no attention. 'That settles it then. You will keep that here for me.'

'You don't want to take it with you?' asked Borgin nervously.

'How do you think I would look carrying that down the street?' snapped Malfoy as he moved back into sight. 'Keep it here and don't you dare sell it! I will be the least of your troubles if you do.'

In two quick strides, Malfoy had flung the door open. Cassy, Harry, and Hermione scrambled backwards as he marched down the road, head held high before he vanished around a corner that lead back to Diagon Alley. The door swung shut noisily.

Hermione shifted.

'Don't,' said Cassy with a hand extended to block the doorway. 'Allow me.'

Hermione eyed her seriously for a moment, before relenting silently. Mentally, Cassy counted to ten, just enough time to avoid much suspicion and yet not enough for Borgin to move something to the back room and return. If he was gone upon her entry then she decided she would have to break in around the back to indulge her mind's curiosity and satisfy the need to know what had her cousin skulking around and threatening shopkeepers.

Harry opened his mouth to speak when Cassy threw the Cloak off her and entered the shop with a single swift turn. She heard him utter a muffled question and the door slammed shut. The bell jingled overhead. Immediately, Borgin emerged from the other side of the room. His fixed and courteous smile dimmed when he saw her; much of the wariness bled from his body and it was replaced with disinterest at the sight of yet another young enquirer.

Wordlessly, Cassy rose her right hand to rest upon one of the nearby bookcases. Then, his whole demeanour changed again. His dark eyes greedily drank in the sight of the three rings upon her hand, each white-gold with the finest of gems, heirlooms from various family members and presents from others to show their ability to spend and their choice of worth over the years. Many of the gifts she had received in her youth had been put away for a time she was ready to present herself to the world, jewellery, books, furniture, and artefacts that a child had no use for. It was only Alphard and Narcissa that seemed to purchase anything remotely age appropriate, but Cassy did not care; they were most useful now.

When his scepticism vanished and his annoyance had fled, Borgin had time to take in the rest of her attire. A delicate dress, fine jewellery, and tailored shoes, although she was not ostentatious in her appearance to any eye looking forth the teen before him had money.

Cassy smiled. 'I am looking for a gift for a close friend. Do you mind if I have a look around? I am not sure what I want.'

His grin only grew larger. 'Of course not, Ma'am. Come right this way.'

* * *

There had not been a single suspicious object in the shop. That was not to say that Cassy had not seen many unusual, less legal objects, but there was nothing that immediately caught her attention, or that she knew belonged in a pair. Malfoy had requested the other must not be sold, so it was possible that the items worked together or that he merely needed the other in case he could not fix his own. Then again, it made more sense for him to simply come back for the item if that was the case, so it had to be that he either needed two or that they were a pair.

The first thing she had done was to take a scrap of parchment and a quill from her bag and scribbled down all of the items she could recall seeing in the shop. She had purchased an old, Latin book from there too, although that was more for her own curiosity on its topic of the Astronomical cycles and lunar patterns and their consequential effects on magic. Harry had not even bothered to sigh when she explained it to him outside.

The Sun had long since set over London and Grimmauld Place had fallen into the depths of the night hours ago. It was the early hours of the morning and Cassy continued to rummage into the depths of her brain for anything that might be of use to her search. She hardly thought it really mattered what Malfoy was after. She knew something had shaken the shopkeeper though and was much more interested in what that was than what he had really been after. It was curious, that Malfoy should leave the visible spot of the shop floor and retreat to the back when there had not been a single soul on the street. If he had glanced out of the window, he would have noticed the lack of occupants, but he did not even do that. Whatever he had shown Borgin was not something he was going to risk anyone knowing and it was something that had shaken the man far more than the threat of Fenrir Greyback, the most dangerous werewolf known to the Ministry, had.

Her attention was waning, though. It was not the late hour, but the constant scraping and shuffling down the hall. On her bedside table sat a stack of order forms that the twins had entrusted her to distribute at school and the clock beside it ticked away, minutes past half-two. Cassy cursed inwardly that she did not have a room closer to the stairs. Never had she wanted one before, but she was certain whoever was wandering was in that area of the house though she could not be sure due to the closed door and distance. It was distracting, whatever they were doing, and so with a sigh she stood and poked her head from her room.

Part of her expected to see Kreacher dragging yet another load of family artifacts from wherever her father had stuffed them, but she saw no one. What she did see was a light burning at the end of the hall. There were no footsteps or shuffling of materials as she approached. The gas lamps were lit, illuminating the various boxes that sat around the room. Many were huddled together and opened with bats and papers poking through the stained lids. Papers and files sat on the sideboard with "Sirius Orion Black" clearly stamped across the front. Several items of clothing were scrunched and thrown onto one of the armchairs. A pungent smell of dust and mould radiated from them.

One box sat apart and in even worse condition from the rest. Inquisitively, Cassy crept around to that one first. She pulled the flaps apart and frowned at the sight. The box was smaller than the rest, merely that of a shoebox, and inside was a small bundle of letters. Warily, her stomach sinking as though someone had thrown a stone into a well, she turned the box to inspect the side. Sure enough, there was a mark. It was not a name, but rather a series of runes and numbers – her father's prisoner code.

She groaned.

The letters were all opened. She had long since assumed they had all be disposed of, burnt by the few human guards stationed at Azkaban, but they seemed to be in readable condition. She loathed that.

With a quick look to the door, she plucked one from the top. Paling, she read the title, not even a name, which took up much of the front of the envelope. In large, uneven letters "Daddy" was scrawled in pencil.

She had not even been aware Azkaban kept such items. It was not as though he father was to be released on his initial sentence, but then there were those that one day would be, so she supposed it must be protocol to keep all of the items sent in. Some of the prisoners on the lower levels were allowed letters from home, sometimes even visitors, but Sirius would never have had a chance for any of that. It was the worst sort of punishment imaginable to be left to the mercy of the Dementors, alone and isolated from family and friends who might have the ability to offer support and strength against the creatures.

The letter read:

 _Daddy wen you ar you home? I hav lots and lots to tell you. I like bloo and dogs, choclat is my favrit. Wat abot you? Unkel sed you like to laff and ar very funny. It is not very fun wen you ar gon tho. My cusin Draco was very meen today becus he pushed a gurl in a pond becus she sed he was to loud. He shots a lot. Dracos daddy sed it was her falt but he called her mummy a mudblud and she got upset. I do not no wat that meens tho. I no you ar bussy and things but I miss you._

 _Luv Cassy_

She cringed. At the tender age of four, she had spent her time fixated on the absence of her father. The first thought she had was to write to him when she had the chance to after her long lessons began at three-years-old. It was not until her teacher, a stern woman who embedded perfect enunciation into the child long before she could hold a pencil, said that her writing was satisfactory and that she put the work down without asking what something said that Cassy felt brave enough to send a letter to her absent parent. She had written it within five minutes. A simple, straight-forward letter that required only a little thought. There had been much more she wanted to say that day, but the words would not translate onto the paper. The endless list of "whys" that she had plagued Alphard with for many months prior were omitted on the basis that Alphard had told her such unrelenting questions were rude. She had not wanted Sirius to think she was rude because Narcissa had told her parents did not love their children if they were rude.

Cassy remembered sending the letter clearly. The first letter she had tied to Alphard's old owl's leg was the first in a series of disappointed mornings and a spiral into disillusion and resentment that had taken years to shake.

Another was withdrawn from its envelope where her handwriting was significantly better.

 _Father,_

 _Today Uncle Alphard told me that I have to go to a ball with the Greengrasses. They are always cold to me because I am not a Pureblood and their youngest daughter is very annoying. She cries all the time._

 _I know what Pureblood is now and I know that is why people treat me like I am strange. Why did my mother have to be a Muggle? It just makes everything worse._

 _Answer me,_

 _Cassy._

It was one of the last letters she had sent. It was dated too. April 22nd, 1986, meant she had been around six and a half-years old when she had sent it. Though the writing was still large, those two years had improved her spelling and penmanship dramatically. It had not improved the tone of her writing though. Time had only made that worse.

She picked up the next one and grimaced at the opening line.

 _Father,_

 _You are a murderer._

There had only been minutes between the talk Alphard had sat her down to have one afternoon and the writing of the letter. She remembered sending that letter more than any other because there was no irritation or hope in her bones as the words flowed onto the parchment. It was not a thoughtful letter, but one filled with rage, resentment, bitterness, and most of all disappointment. She hated him, loathed him for killing thirteen people and leaving her all alone when her mother had died the year previous. What she truly hated him for was for shattering the image of him she had spent years building in her head.

Alphard never spoke of Sirius often. Sometimes he even refused to acknowledge he had a nephew by that name, but when he did, his eyes were always bright. When he did speak of him, it was always entertaining tales of his misadventures. She expected him to be joyful and hilarious. He was someone who contrasted Lucius Malfoy in every way that mattered; he was to stand for no wrong, who would stop the sneering and the ridicule, who would praise Cassy when she was able to read ten years above her level at just seven years old. Instead, he was a murderer. A murderer was worse than the cold stare of Lucius. She hated him for it. She hated them both for it.

 _All this time I had foolishly believed you might be someone good. I had been thinking about why you were away so much that Uncle Alphard eventually had to tell me the truth and I am horrified that I ever wrote to you. No wonder you never wrote back. You do not care about me just as you did not care about the lives you took, or else you would be here. Fortunately, Alphard is twice the father you would ever had been. I am sure of that._

 _This will be my last letter._

 _I am ashamed to be your daughter._

 _C. M. Black_

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Cassy wondered if it was too late to burn them all right then and there. Her father might be furious for it, but it would save the embarrassment and the awkwardness that was sure to bubble between them when he read them. That was, of course, assuming he had already not done so. Cassy rather wished the floor would swallow her up, because unlike other circumstances where she could hold her head high, there was no escaping the fact as a child she wrote embarrassing little letters to her estranged father about her day.

When Sirius poked his head through the door, still dressed in that day's clothing and a coffee in his hand, he merely blinked at the sight of her. Slowly, his eyes drifted down to the box on the table and then back up to Cassy's tense features.

'Don't worry about it,' he said, padding over with bare feet. 'I actually feel better off for reading them, you know. I feel like I understand a bit more why you disliked me so much when we first met – aside from the whole being a stranger thing.'

The coffee was set down on the table and Cassy's head was turned away, trying to hide the embarrassed frown that had occupied her pretty face.

'Are you blushing?' teased Sirius.

Cassy openly sneered.

He laughed and she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands.

'For the record, I never read these in Azkaban and I am very grateful for that. I never realised a seven-year-old could be quite so scornful,' he said, his tone still light.

'I apologise for this,' she said quietly, tapping the box. 'Where did you even get these things?'

'I had a meeting today to sort out some things at Gringotts and then to see a Law worker about the compensation I was owed. She gave me these while I was there, saying they had been stored beneath Azkaban for years,' he said simply, before turning to her with a grin. 'My favourite ones are the ones where you sent me pictures you had drawn.'

Cassy groaned inwardly again.

'I am afraid my skills have not improved much,' she said, wincing.

'Really?' laughed Sirius. 'I used to draw all the time. It was the only thing I could do stuck in a place like this for my childhood. Anyway, now that you're acting like a normal teenager and not in bed abysmally early, talk me through some of these letters.'

Cassy did not go to bed early. In fact, the few times her father had seen her wandering into the kitchen at seven o'clock was when she had not been to sleep at all yet, having been far too busy reading, theorising, or talking to Harry through the mirror to climb into bed. She felt no need to tell him that, though, lest he lamented her studious behaviour once more.

Sirius shuffled closer to her and pulled an envelope out of the box. He slipped a photograph from the back with a grin and Cassy made a long-suffering noise at the sight of her six-year-old self.

* * *

 **I'm not fond of the first half of the chapter, but it feels good to finally reveal the second but between Cassy and Sirius! I think it helps to explain her distance with him a little more and as you may have noticed the pair are building and securing their bridges a lot in these early chapters.**

 **Please let me know what you think as usual and thank-you for the reviews for the last chapter.**

 **My writing of this year was halted for a bit because I had to check over a plot point against seventh year and then tried to work out what it is I would do with that story. Trouble is, not a whole lot happens for long periods of time. Months stretch by without much more than a mere reference unlike all of the months up to this point, so I am having issues thinking how I would incorporate things. My biggest issue is, of course, the fact that Sirius is very much alive, but I think I have worked a way around that. Anyway, I will concentrate on this year first.**

 **Thanks!**


	6. Suspicions and victories

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter VI: Suspicions and victories**

When September 1st finally came around, Sirius was not nearly as agitated as he had been the year before. His newspaper was open as always and a coffee was steaming gently in front whilst he scanned the pages for information meticulously. Harry had only emerged from his room for a brief moment to retrieve a drink some time before. Despite the numerous reminders of the returning school year that the _Daily Prophet_ had issued, none of that seemed to encourage Harry to pack his things properly and Cassy was no longer surprised by his ability to scramble together what he needed at the last minute. She rather blamed his living with Ron for the last five years for it.

The Daily Prophet had a short paragraph of the trials of Lucius and Nott, as well as another captured Death Eater, but the news was sparse and their sentences were not stated. The paper ended with a scathing note that any lack of information was a result of the Ministry's own reluctance to share information. Whilst the medium was useful for the Ministry to impart information through, it was not owned by the government and so more than once in the summer weeks the Ministry had found itself the subject of many probing, vicious demands from the writers that the Lead Editor had somehow allowed.

There was a short, forced cough.

Sirius' head was on his hand and he nodded down to the table behind Cassy's own newspaper. She lifted it up to reveal a small, black box.

'What is it?' she asked.

'Open it,' he said.

Cassy cast the paper aside and considered the box as she plucked it from the worn tabletop. It was small and almost metallic in its shine.

'I have been thinking lately,' said Sirius. 'Now that I am a free man, I have many responsibilities I am supposed to uphold, many of which, quite frankly, I would rather have nothing to do with.'

The box opened to reveal a single, black band, darker than the night and that glittered brighter than the stars. Latin script curled around it. Cassy's breath caught in her throat.

'I have no interest in being part of any politics. I don't want to take up the family seat in Wizengamot, so I thought of someone who might and had it arranged with the Ministry,' he continued.

For several moments, Cassy did nothing. Then, her eyes slowly flicked to her father and back down to the ring. It was a large hoop, but when she slid it over her left index finger it shrank and tightened around her pale appendage securely.

'This would make me the Head of House when I turn seventeen,' she said slowly.

He nodded and a grin split across his face. 'Of the four or five Blacks that are left out there, yes. You don't have to, obviously, but…'

Cassy shook her head and he trailed off quietly.

To be the Head of the family meant Cassy would be entitled to vote in Wizengamot for legislation, she would be able to protest motions and even draft bills if she wished to do so. It also meant that she would become either very well liked, or very much hated depending on whether she intended to work with the system or against it and to whose wishes it was all for. People would turn to her for her vote. Whether they liked her or not, people would have to be willing to listen.

Cassy had always suspected the House of Black would die with her. She was always unlikely to receive the ring due to Sirius' life imprisonment and the Black family's short lifespans. Having heirs was also not high on her list of ambitions either, so it very well still might, but she supposed she could always pass the ring and title onto any of Tonks' children if the older woman was to have any if she could file the paperwork to have Tonks finally instated into the family. She would need to write a will too, although she would naturally need one when seventeen anyway because of her abnormally large fortune and the inevitable altercation that would occur if she were to, unfortunately, die unmarried and childless anyway. Their Ancient and Noble family was very small, but if she were to ask her father he would certainly say that was for the best.

She marvelled at it for a moment longer, before she turned back to the sneering faces of the Death Eaters on the cover of the _Daily Prophet_.

* * *

'I'm serious,' insisted Harry.

'I know you are,' replied Cassy simply as the pair battled their way through the dense sea of lingering students, fretful and relieved parents, and hordes of pets and luggage that covered the walkway of Platform 9 ¾ .

'You said – '

'I know what I said and I have said a lot of things,' interrupted Cassy with a short sigh. 'Give me a minute to actually find a compartment and we will discuss it.'

Getting to the train with the luggage in tow was much more difficult than it should reasonably have been. It was always a chore, given the sheer amount of people that crowded the platform, but it was exceptionally difficult this year; people no longer shuffled along when they saw them passing, but stared and gawped with seemingly no realisation that they were very much in the way.

At any other time, she would have smirked at Harry for his shoulders were slightly hunched and his eyes were unnaturally fixated ahead, uncomfortable and unkeen to make eye-contact with any onlooker. Right then, though, all Cassy wished to do was board the train before it left in three minutes. It was hardly possible for them to speak freely in such a place either, for everyone who spotted him either broke out into loud calls of attention or hushed so completely that a pocket of silence emerged in the bustling crowd. They had lost Ron and Ginny when Mrs Weasley pulled Harry back into her arms for a second suffocating hug before she allowed him to board the train. She had whispered a fretful 'good luck' to him before they waved and weaved towards the train. Ginny would have been very useful to disperse the crowd with. She was brash enough that she would have no problem telling them all to mind their own business and while Cassy may have done it herself she was intent to keep an angelic façade after the attention placed of her and her father's apparently budding relationship that summer. The last thing she needed was for people to think she had been influenced by him.

Slamming the door of the compartment shut, Harry collapsed into the nearest seat. With only a quick glance out of the window, he leant over and pulled the blind down, blocking the many peering eyes from view. They would have waved good-bye to Sirius, but at the first flash of a camera he had Disapparated. A request to avoid attention had come through from a rather amused Professor Dumbledore after Witch Weekly voted him "Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award for Summer 1996". Sirius had threatened to frame the issue and hang it on display at the next Order of the Phoenix meeting.

Whilst Harry was putting her luggage on the rack overhead, Cassy slipped her head out the door. Immediately, the lack of movement to her left caught her attention. At the sight of her, a gaggle of girls had halted, silent and staring as though they had not expected another's presence in a busy corridor. She cast them each an appraising look before her gaze moved over their heads and towards two blondes approaching with heavy suitcases and eager grins. Cassy stepped into the hall.

'Are you all right?' she asked, smiling.

One of the girls jumped and turned quickly to Neville and Luna who were politely mumbling to be allowed to pass. When they did, Neville beamed.

'Never better,' he said. 'I thought we'd find you here. We were up the other end, but then Luna mentioned about all the people crowding around the end of the train and I just knew Harry had to be nearby.'

Neville laughed at Harry's groan.

Despite their new company, Harry was as intent as ever to continue the conversation Cassy had hushed. It was not that it was not an interesting or puzzling scenario, but the topic of Draco Malfoy had grown stale with a week of constant discussion and no new opinions to add. They were no closer to finding out what it was that he had been trying to secure and fix in Borgin and Burke's and despite Harry's probing, nothing unusual about the store, beyond the obvious, had come to Cassy's mind that might help them piece his actions together.

Recalling the tale to Neville and Luna had them both leaning forward in their seats in interest. It did not, however, offer them any ideas. By the time the story had ended, the train had departed from the station and the corridor had only a few occupants lingering. The Prefects would be on duty soon and would soon clear any unwanted commotions. Cassy hoped that would stop the occasional students pressing their faces to the glass as though they could not be seen doing it. It was almost amusing; Harry had lived in the castle for the last five years, it would be thought the other occupants would be used to his presence by now.

'I think Malfoy's a Death Eater,' announced Harry.

Neville gasped.

'And Cassy agrees with me,' he continued and Cassy eyed him scornfully.

'It is a very real possibility, but I'm not certain,' she said. 'After the shame Lucius put his family through I am not sure the Dark Lord would want him, nor Narcissa allow it. She may not appear wonderful to any of you, but she loves Draco beyond anything else.'

I might as well be talking to a troll, thought Cassy. Harry's face did not even show a flicker of acknowledgement of her words.

'Do you really think Voldemort would recruit someone our age?' questioned Neville to Cassy. He did not bother to direct his question to Harry as well. They all knew what he would say.

For a moment, Cassy said nothing. A Galleon turned between her fingers idly.

'I think it does little good to dwell on this right now. We are going to travel in circles and desperation only leads to wild and unimaginable ideas,' she said, her words calculated. 'If nothing else, we should wait for an opportunity to look into his actions further, but right now we know nothing for certain.'

Harry slumped in his seat slightly.

Luna looked between them though it was hard to discern who she was addressing with the large pink paper glasses that hid half her face. The centre swirled different colours and looked as though she had cut them from the middle of a magazine – a fact they were all keenly avoiding addressing.

'Have you had nice summers?' she asked dreamily. 'I went to Wales with Daddy to see the Welsh Green Dragons as their eggs hatch. Daddy was burnt quite badly. The camera flash scared one and well, everything caught alight after she spotted us.'

Harry and Neville winced.

'Were you all right, Luna?' asked Harry.

'Oh, yes, though I lost my shoes as we ran,' she nodded, smiling. 'The camera was fine too. We got some brilliant photographs. Would you like to see?'

It turned out that Luna was quite skilled with a camera. Like any true naturalist, she seemed determined to get as close to everything as physically possible, taking a photograph at every other step. They were clear and crisp and she had even stopped to take one as the grassy field was ablaze once safely behind a rocky outcrop in Snowdonia. The photographs were passed around and it did not seem like long until the compartment door slid open and Hermione and Ron entered.

Cassy could not help but think it was unusual for Ron to join them so soon on their journey.

'Done the rounds already?' asked Neville in surprise. 'I didn't realise it had been that long!'

Even Cassy had to admit, Luna was a very enthralling story-teller, although she would argue some of it was down to the sheer disbelief at the absurdity of Luna and her father.

The entrance brought with them a heavy air. It was an unavoidable feeling that radiated from Ron. He sat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and a deep, unforgiving scowl on his freckled face. For a minute, no one acknowledged it with anything more than a stare. He refused to look back at them and it was only when Luna's eyes drifted back to her magazine and Harry quirked an eyebrow at Hermione, did anyone speak at all.

'He just saw Ginny and Dean snogging,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes. She brought out a book from her satchel and opened it uninterestedly.

Ron blanched. 'I have every right to be upset! My sister has become some sort of scarlet woman with my best mate.'

'Scarlet woman,' mouthed Harry and Cassy had to bite her lip not to laugh. Honestly, Dean should have known better than to publically kiss Ginny, at least for now. When Cassy had spoken to him months ago he was very well aware that Ron would not accept their relationship easily, if at all, but given that Ginny cared little of what her older brother thought of her life choices, Cassy imagined the kissing had less to do with Dean's indiscretions and more as a result of Ginny's.

'Malfoy wasn't at the Prefect meeting,' said Hermione idly, 'not lording himself over first-years as usual.'

'We saw him in a compartment and he just flipped his finger at us. It was weird,' added Ron, voice still low and sulky.

Harry visible sat up in his seat, his mouth opened to spit questions, but he never had the opportunity to do so because the compartment door slid open and a trembling girl held out a pile of envelopes towards no one in particular.

'I have been asked to give these to…' she paused for a moment and sucked in a deep breath, 'H-Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Cassi…Cassiopeia Black.' The girl fumbled over Cassy's name for a moment, before Hermione relinquished her of her burdensome letters and she escaped back out into the corridor like a rabbit into a warren.

Cassy pried open the envelope curiously. She read:

 _Miss Black,_

 _I would be delighted if you could join me for lunch in compartment C._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Professor H.E.F Slughorn._

Professor Slughorn, one of the greatest Potioneers in Britain, had invited her for lunch. Not only her but Harry and Neville as well. It was a curious thing to do, but Cassy recalled how Harry had described the display of photographs of famous and well-known ex-students that the man had kept despite being on the run from Death Eaters; Professor Slughorn was a collector and right then, Cassy was very pleased to allow herself to be collected. The man had more connections than anyone cared to count.

Opposite her, Neville asked, 'Who's Slughorn?'

'The new Potions Professor,' answered Harry distastefully. 'I'm not sure I want to have lunch with him.'

'It would be rude to decline,' said Cassy easily. 'You do not want to make a bad impression on your new Potions professor, surely.'

Harry grunted and stood. Cassy and Neville followed him, the latter far more wary than the former, who already had a fake, polite smile fixed on her face. The door slid shut and drowned out Hermione and Ron's questions. Neither Cassy nor Harry had thought to mention the appointment of Professor Slughorn during Harry's birthday celebration. Though echoing their queries, Neville asked, 'If he's going to be the Potions professor, does that mean Snape has left?'

His brown eyes were alight with hope.

'I wish,' muttered Harry. 'No, he's going to be the new Defence teacher.'

Neville blanched.

There was not time to lament the information, because the three soon halted outside of compartment C. Through the door window, it was painfully obvious that Professor Slughorn had taken his time to invite everyone he thought might be of interest to him. Neville flushed under the scrutiny of all the eyes of their peers, who were wedged into the seats built for no more than six people really. At the centre of them was a bald man with a large, silver moustache dressed in a golden velvet waistcoat; brass buttons glimmered in the midday sun, polished so carefully for a man who had been on the run.

Beside him was Zabini, along with McLaggen and Stephen was squashed beside him nearest the window. Opposite Stephen was Shandy, then a boy Cassy did not recognise. Surprisingly, next to him was Ginny, who looked very much perplexed on how it was she got there. Cassy flashed her eyebrows and Ginny simply shrugged unknowingly.

'Harry, my boy!' greeted Professor Slughorn. 'Sit, sit. Come from the other end of the train, have you?' He patted the slight gap beside him closest to the door. The shuffling only inflicted more knocking elbows and disgruntled faces from Zabini as McLaggen refused to shuffle and compromise his own space at all for him.

Professor Slughorn's eyes then turned keenly to Cassy and Neville as they slithered into the gap beside Ginny.

'Miss Black, how delightful it is to see you again,' he said cheerfully. 'I am glad it is under better circumstances than last time we met. May God rest Alphard's soul. You still have my card, I take it?'

'I do, Sir,' said Cassy.

'Splendid,' he said. 'You must be Neville Longbottom? Your parents were extraordinary Aurors, of course. Very popular when I taught them both.'

Neville did not respond beyond a shaky smile. Professor Slughorn's eyes dimmed a fraction.

'Well, now that everyone is here, why don't we go around and introduce ourselves?' he suggested with a clap of his meaty hands. He reached down to the floor and extracted a plate. With a pair of tongs, he began piling food onto it and smiled at the lone boy Cassy was unfamiliar with before handing him the array of cold meats. 'Marcus Belby is, as you might have guessed, the nephew of Damocles Belby, the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion.'

Cassy's eyes widened a fraction.

'Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?' asked Professor Slughorn.

'No, not exactly. He and my Dad don't really see eye-to-eye,' he stuttered.

'Oh, that's a shame.'

From the sudden shift in tone, the news must really have been a shame, for the glint in Professor Slughorn's eyes vanished and his expression sagged as though he had been handed a pair of sullied boots as a birthday present. He turned away with a low hum and instead focused his attention to McLaggen, an older Gryffindor boy who held an unusually tall height and had curly blond hair. The older boy preened under his gaze.

After a minute, Cassy understood why. His uncle was very well-known and firmly established within the Ministry, so much so that he and his uncle had recently been photographed with the Minister of Magic on a group hunting trip together. His speech was cool and assured, his grin and extended body language made him appear arrogant and foolish. Cassy glazed over as their conversation went on and on. Professor Slughorn had obviously found potential in him.

Eventually, talk turned to Shandy. It was with interest that Cassy listened to Professor Slughorn's ramblings of his family. It was his grandfather who created the important link for Shandy. He had invented a cure for a rare brain disease after his wife had contracted it late in her life; their first-born son had followed her to her grave not long after and it was only then that Matthias Shandy finally found his cure and the tragic story of its creation had sucked Professor Slughorn in so completely that he seemed unable to recognise the thunderous scowl on Shandy's face at the publication of his family history. When he did seem to notice the icily polite tone of voice, it did not deter him at all and instead Cassy thought it might have actually made him find Shandy all the more interesting.

He turned to Stephen with equal enthusiasm and whilst he was busy plating up food for him, Stephen cast Cassy a dry look over his back. Cassy grinned back in response.

'Now, Stephen, how is your father? I know he must be busy, being the Chief of the International Stature of Wizarding Secrecy and all. He's stationed in Norway, isn't he? Always had a fascination for that country when I taught him. It was a nightmare to stop him writing all his class notes in Norwegian,' said Professor Slughorn.

'He's fine, Sir. Thank-you, Sir,' said Stephen, accepting the plate. The dry humour was gone from his handsome features and he looked simply uncomfortable now.

Cassy caught his eye for a moment. She was careful not to let her shock show. It had been mentioned in passing before that Stephen lived with his mother alone. Cassy had not given the whereabouts of his father much thought, possibly dead or simply separated, it really did not bear any weight on their friendship. She had cast it aside with the assumption he most likely was not fond of his father because not once had he mentioned his mere existence, yet to hear his father was someone so important and still never to hear of his relation only concreted that idea in her mind. Stephen must really hate him.

'He's begun work on the next World Cup. They've had to rewrite all of their protocols after the last one,' said Stephen. He glanced to Cassy at their mention.

Despite his obvious unease, Shandy did not tease Stephen. There was not even a smirk in his direction and Cassy could not help but notice that the other was seemingly not surprised at all by the information.

Neville was next and then Cassy after him. His smile widened as he gave her a plate.

'I remember when Miss Black used to come into work with her Great Uncle when she was very small. Granted, you are much older now though I do hope you are as inquisitive and clever now as you were as a child. I remember, after I retired, the days I used to spend visiting my niece at her work – giving advice and what not. Have you inherited your Uncle's taste for Potions?' said Professor Slughorn joyfully.

It irritated Cassy of how easily he spoke to her. They were not old friends and the occasional appearance on a Wednesday afternoon did not mean he knew her well enough to attempt to reminisce with her. It was all really rather secondary, she knew, the most important part was to establish herself as part of his little network. So, she smiled and said, 'I have, Sir.'

'His skill?'

'I can only hope,' she said, still smiling.

Professor Slughorn laughed and nodded, 'Yes, yes. Always excellent at school too. Top of his year, I recall. Your father – oh, your father, he has been relieved of all charges, hasn't he? Fantastic news!'

He handed her another pie.

'I saw you were at his trial. The Ministry will have a lot of making up to do, locking an innocent man away like that. He was a Gryffindor himself, though I had the rest of your family in my House. I rather would have liked the set. Exceptionally bright, your father. Do you see much of him now then?' he asked and his gaze was careful and curious.

'I have seen him a few times,' she agreed politely. She reached to take the offered pie, although she really rather not but eating would only increase the sense of acceptance and Cassy really rather hoped he liked her well enough to generate some future favours. She just needed a lie about their relationship.

There was a sharp gasp. Suddenly, Professor Slughorn's eyes narrowed like a hawk's gaze on a vole. There was the briefest moment of visibility, but he had seen it with his well-practised eyes and had caught a glimpse of the black ring on her long, thin fingers. If possible, his eyes were even brighter than before.

His gasp had drawn the attention of Zabini and Shandy. Unsurprisingly, both boys knew exactly where to look for the cause.

Cassy wove her fingers together in her lap. She said calmly, 'Come November, I will be the official Head.'

'Excellent!' cheered Professor Slughorn.

Beside her, Neville and Ginny had turned to give her enquiring looks. She had not had time thus far to explain it to them and she had never really considered it a necessity to do so. Part of her had really been looking forward to seeing Hermione's face when it was revealed in the Daily Prophet the day after her seventeenth birthday.

'You want to be politician then?' queried Professor Slughorn enthusiastically and handed her yet another pie.

'I was thinking about working with potions, actually,' she said.

'Just like Alphard. How exciting,' he mumbled, pleased.

They spoke for a moment longer, before Professor turned to Harry, his true pride and joy of the group. It took only a few minutes for the subject of Harry being the Chosen One to surface. He remained stubbornly silent. He neither agreed nor dismissed the claims and yet Professor Slughorn seemed to like him all the more for it. It was as though the mystery added to his charm. It no longer mattered to him if Harry was the Chosen One or not, because the newspapers had already hailed him so. With his watery eyes drinking in Harry's every word, no matter how stumbling and forced polite they were, nothing seemed to shake the reverence his supposed status brought to their new teacher.

It was only when Harry vehemently refused to acknowledge the Prophecy for the fifth time that Professor Slughorn called an end to his lunch. They all parted with the understanding that he was very much as the rumours had depicted him to be – clever and cunning, every bit the ideal Slytherin without the dark stereotype shadowing his persona. He called after McLaggen, insisting he borrow a book and to Cassy with an offer to solve any hardships she faced in Potions. Harry, Ginny, and Zabini were invited to drop by his office at any time and Stephen managed to slip from the compartment before Professor Slughorn had a chance to extend any well-wishes.

'Where's he got to? Ah, I suppose I will just have to catch him later. Benjamin,' he said as he rounded on Shandy, 'you should drop by my office and I'll see if I can arrange a tea with your older brother, Richard, some time. We've met several times. Has he ever mentioned me?'

Shandy turned coldly towards him. A chilling smile pulled at his lips. 'Thank-you, Sir, for the meal.'

Cassy, Harry, Neville, and Ginny parted before another word could keep them a moment longer. Harry sighed heavily and Ginny snorted a giggle at his disgruntled expression. Ahead of them was Zabini, who paused to enter a compartment that within had a flash of pale blond hair. They passed silently. Then, Harry suddenly halted.

'Y'know, there's something I want to ask Slughorn. I'll be back in a second,' he announced quickly.

Cassy sighed heavily and did not bother to glance back. She did not need to be a genius to know he was intending to slink into Malfoy's compartment.

His obsession is getting out of hand, she thought as she pushed open her own compartment door, followed by Neville and Ginny.

The Sun had set by the time the train pulled into its stop at Hogsmeade Station. Harry had yet to return. Cassy lingered as long as possible, but even as the last few bodies exited the train she did not see him. Aurors had begun to sweep into sight to no doubt search the train and its many trunks. Though no longer as visible as she once had been, Cassy easily spotted Tonks further down the platform and gave a sharp, meaningful jerk of her head towards the scarlet engine. A frown flickered across the other's face before she eyed the small, lingering group. With the slightest incline of Tonk's head, she sent them on their way to the carriages.

'Maybe Harry's gone already,' suggested Hermione weakly.

Yet Harry was not in the Great Hall when they arrived either. Cassy looked back to the doors closed doors with a deep frown. Calculated blue-eyes sought through the faces around her until she came to the grey ones of her smug cousin. He mouthed something to Goyle which sent the other boy into a fit of nasty laughter. Wherever Harry was he was most likely there because of Malfoy. The best case scenario was that he was still on the train. If he was not, and was not so in a reasonable condition, Cassy would be having words with her cousin and she would be the only one to enjoy it; Harry would adore the tale upon recovery.

A song began to echo through the hall and the Sorting Hat began a new warning against inter-house rivalry. Professor Snape swept from the room. Cassy's eyes stayed trained to the door. The song drew to an end and the jittering first-year students scurried to the stool one after another and Professor Snape had yet to return. Cassy turned once again to Malfoy. His long fingers were on his nose and he pinched the bridge before jerking his fingers sharply. Those around him sniggered and simmered their humour under the sharp gaze of Professor McGonagall.

The meal began. Harry had yet to appear.

'I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall,' declared Neville.

'If he was on the train Tonks would have found him by now, surely?' fretted Hermione.

'Unless he was so beaten up they had to take him straight to St. Mungo's,' offered Ron as he piled potato onto his plate.

'Ron!' snapped Ginny.

Ron looked up and between them, blinking owlishly. 'I didn't mean it like that! C'mon, when has Harry ever really been injured like that? Of all the things he's done, when has he ever been truly seriously injured?'

Cassy did not react. Her eyes were still focused on the door. Professor Snape had gone somewhere for a reason. If Tonks had found him, she would have summoned the closest Order member. Professor Dumbledore did not look concerned and Cassy very much doubted even he would not be able to hide his grief if something had really happened to him.

'I bet he's lecturing him,' accused Cassy aloud. Her eyes were narrowed at where Professor Snape had last been seen.

'What?' asked Neville.

'Malfoy will get away with it,' continued Cassy scornfully.

'What?' asked Hermione.

The doors opened. Professor Snape glided through the centre of the hall and attracted little attention. Harry, who trailed behind, did not. The stares that followed him were of little consequence to him, he did not even seem to notice as he threw himself down into a space beside Cassy.

'Where have you been?' she demanded calmly.

Harry was covered in blood splatters.

'I have something to tell you,' he said eagerly.

* * *

 **Hogwarts is finally here and Cassy is now the official heir to the family. It's about time she got serious! I can't imagine Sirius ever wanting to be involved in the life his family took so seriously and strictly, he would want to enjoy his freedom. This does not mean things will be easy for her. A name isn't everything. That does not mean she will not try.**

 **Thank-you for the reviews. I love to hear what you think.**

 **Thanks!**


	7. Reports

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter VII: Reports**

The Dark Lord had given Draco Malfoy a personal task to fulfil. At least, that was what Harry insisted he had overheard him telling his friends in the compartment before Malfoy had dragged him from the luggage shelf where he had perched beneath his invisibility cloak and stunned him. His nose had been broken, stomped on by the Slytherin, but Tonks had fixed it before Professor Snape had arrived to escort him inside the castle. His casual attire, something that had been gaining him increasing attention through the evening, and lateness had seen Gryffindor deducted seventy points before the feast had even begun.

It was unsurprising, in a sense, to hear Malfoy had bragged about his involvement with Voldemort. Part of Cassy supposed she had almost long-since expected his branding, she had certainly suspected it might have been his leverage against Borgin, yet disappointment stirred in her stomach at the news. Hermione, however, was not so convinced. Malfoy was young and while not stupid, he was not as collected or as skilled as the Death Eaters they fought only months ago. To her, it seemed an unlikely union.

'Just because his dad's a Death Eater doesn't mean he is,' she hissed in the quiet of the common room that night. 'We know he gloats over nearly everything. The threat of telling his father is gone with him in Azkaban, so he could have just moved onto the next big name.'

'You should have heard him, though,' argued Harry. 'He was talking about how pointless this all is and how he might not even be back next year. He's got a mission!'

Neville looked between them, pale-faced.

By the end of the night, no one had agreed on what to do next. Unless they could uncover his task, there was nothing to be done by anyone except Cassy. While she did not say it, the task Malfoy may or may not have been given was really secondary to the fact that he was very possibly a marked Death Eater. He had pledged himself to Voldemort, but within the protection of the school, she might just be able to persuade him to change his mind. If she told her friends of that glimmer of hope, of the small voice inside her head that assured her that no matter how foully he had spoken to her over the years that he had never explicitly gone out of his way to harm her, so he must care, even if just a little, they would all scoff. Even Neville would part with a grimaced smile at that foolish optimism.

The next day did not bring new ideas, but it did signal the start of their sixth-year classes. Professor McGonagall swept around the table and handed out their classes. Hermione was first with seven classes filling up most of the boxes. There were still many study periods, though, compared to the ten OWLs she had taken the year before. Harry was congratulated on his excellent Potions score. The corner of Professor McGonagall's lips quirked up and the echo of her argument with Umbridge over his capabilities fluttered through everyone's minds. Harry grinned at her and took his schedule of five classes. Neville was accepted onto four: Herbology, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures. His shoulders slumped.

'I'm sorry, Mr Longbottom, but I only accept students with "Exceeds Expectations" for my NEWT classes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'However, I am glad to see you received that in Charms. I know your grandmother views it as a woolly subject, but if she has any issues with you taking it I will be sure to remind her that just because she failed her Charms NEWT doesn't mean the subject is bad.'

Neville smiled shyly.

Professor McGonagall then rounded on Cassy and gave her a stern stare.

'You have been granted all of your choices, Miss Black, but do remember that you have chosen an exceptionally difficult subject. Alchemy is not something you can merely do in lesson time and I do not want you to neglect your other studies. If your grades fall below an "E" even once, I will ensure you to reconsider your choices, understood?'

Cassy nodded cordially. 'Of course, Professor, but have a little faith.'

Professor McGonagall gave her a shrewd stare. 'I will not have you wasting your potential.'

'Do not worry so much, Professor. Transfiguration is still my favourite subject,' assured Cassy with a half-grin.

'You have truly spent too long with your father, answering me back,' she sighed.

That was very possible, thought Cassy, but really she should be glad she did not repeat any of the nicknames Sirius had for her. Besides, she had breached her strict teacher-student role when she had joined them all for celebratory drinks at Tonks' flat after Sirius' trial had concluded in the summer. Cassy had witnessed too many quick-witted retorts between her father and favourite teacher to simply not joke anymore. Besides, she knew she was too fond of their little group to truly mind.

'My apologies,' said Cassy and the look on Professor McGonagall's face clearly stated she did not believe that at all. She then turned to Ron and held out his timetable.

'I have taken the liberty of adding Potions to your schedule. I remember you wished to be an Auror and that requires Potions. Fortunately, Professor Slughorn accepts "E" grade students,' she said and Ron accepted it, his eyes roaming greedily over the many blank 'study' spaces his paper held.

Cassy's first lesson was Ancient Runes with Hermione. The class was considerably smaller than it had been for OWLs, but there were still about twelve students in total, so it was inevitably larger than Alchemy was sure to be on Wednesdays. The introductory lesson drifted over the new principals they were to learn that year and there was a short recap of the previous topics. This did not stop a fifteen-inch essay from being set, along with two papers to be read and two further translations to be completed by Wednesday. Hermione anxiously began work in the free period they shared after break, while Harry and Ron threw the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had confiscated that morning across great lengths of the library.

Despite her loathing for Professor Snape, Cassy found herself very curious about the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He was no warmer in lessons that he had been outside of them for all the years she had known him, so it was no stretch of the imagination to envision the patronising and aggressive stance he would take in a much more physical class. It was always rumoured to be his true passion. Everyone knew that it was the job he had always yearned for, though no one was sure why. He hardly came across as the type who wished to instil a sense of security in others, he never appeared to want people to be able to stand on their own two feet and defend themselves, if anything, his personality only encouraged weakness, the constant berating and criticism did not encourage strength or belief in oneself that was needed for Defence. He was going to be awful. A competent teacher with worldly experience, but a terrible member of staff none the less with his hazardous and depressing methods.

It was that which made Cassy so interested in the lesson that afternoon. She knew she would be too fortunate to assume his hands-on method would be at all like Barty Crouch Jr's under his mascaraed of Moody, well-rounded and every moment constructively spent. Yet, she was confident she would learn a lot. Perhaps, she wondered, it was a similar thought to hers that had so many people lined up outside and waiting. Despite his appointment having sent ripples of anger and unease through the school, there was not a single person she had heard of who had elected to drop the class. Then again, she put at least half of the attendances down to desperation in light of a war.

Malfoy leant against a corner further away from where Cassy stood. Zabini was beside him, his expression icier, more closed as he regarded Malfoy than Harry's story had suggested he would be. Zabini had no time for sides. He was a neutral family, out for their own aims and nothing more. Whilst he did not think highly of Muggle-borns, he did not favour Death Eaters either and Cassy was certain of that from their many fleeting conversations the year before. She knew his favourite food, colour, clothing designer, all little things that made big impressions and the one large fact she was certain about was Zabini's total lack of interest in being a Death Eater. Anything that upheaved his lifestyle was a negative to him. She had spent a lot of time treading around anything he might view as such. Malfoy, however, seemed to be doing the opposite.

That did not mean he was not trying, though. It was as though his mouth never stopped moving. Too distant to hear over the anxious chatter of the other students, Cassy focused on reading his lips, but that became boring after "the Dark Lord" was said; it was an expected, obvious conversation then.

When the doors to the classroom opened everyone fell silent. Professor Snape allowed their entry with a short, sharp word and they piled into the dark room, lit only by candles that lined the walls, dully illuminating gruesome portraits unseen in any classroom before. Bloody, dismembered, screaming men and woman writhed in the portraits. Necks had been slashed, eyeballs drew back into a woman's skull as her mouth opened and closed with each spasm. Long, thorn-covered limbs wrapped around the body of a man, their form uncomfortably familiar to Cassy; they pierced his flesh and each puncture drew a bead of blood and lines dripped from his mouth where the long spines had pierced his chest.

'Books away,' said Professor Snape quietly. 'The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.'

His hushed tone was haunting. Instantly, Cassy felt wary. Every instinct demanded she draw her wand at his admiring tone, too silky to be appropriate by anyone's definition.

He turned to the paintings. 'The Crutiatus Curse.' Neville did not look away. 'The Dementor's Kiss. An Inferius attack.' The cause of each injury was listed as he circled the room. 'The best defence for any of these spells is for your opponent to not know what is going to come. Your task today is to perform silent hexes and shields against one another'

One of the major issues Cassy had faced whilst battling Bellatrix at the Ministry had been her inability to always be able to determine what she was facing. It was difficult to handle two spells at once when she did not know which one should take priority. To begin to learn it in the first lesson was wonderful, but the classes excitement dwindled as quickly as it had bubbled. The concern that whilst Professor Snape would inevitably know a lot about the subject, being a former Death Eater, he was not right for the class was proven to be valid and, in fact, very true only minutes into the lesson. He gave no tips on channelling magical intent to perform wordless spells, they were simply to do it in pairs.

'Focus your intent,' advised Cassy to Neville when he was wrangled into a pair with Hermione.

Ron had rounded on Harry from the other side of the room, very much intending to keep as far away from Dean as possible.

'You look lost, Black,' a cold voice came from behind her.

Cassy inclined her head behind and slid her eyes the remaining distance. Disinterestedly, she said, 'Greengrass. Lost Zabini to Malfoy, have you? You might want to fetch him back before any damage is done.'

'The only damage that would be done would be to your cousin,' she retorted.

Cassy laughed.

'Greengrass, Black, stop talking and begin practise like everyone else,' demanded Professor Snape.

Supposing they had no other choice but than to work with each other, the two girls moved into a space of their own. It could have been worse, Cassy supposed. Of all the Slytherins present, Daphne was not quite the least irritating one, but certainly the most familiar one that was still talking to her anyway. It was also the most interesting partnership for Cassy because she had never really had the time to observe Daphne's spell work before.

As it turned out, Daphne was already familiar with wordless incantations. The ease she fired stinging jinxes at Cassy was concerning and Cassy frowned at her own lack of preparation. She wanted to peer around the room to see if anyone else had already begun a mastery of it, but from the dull mutterings she could hear around the room, it seemed everyone was as ill-prepared as she was. She uttered a hex in retaliation and it skimmed over Daphne's shoulder when her shield failed to materialise. The two regarded each other for a moment, before Cassy dropped her knees a fraction, readying her feet to respond and her lips sealed for the oncoming attack.

After ten minutes, their practice had become a bit more like a spar. It would be lying for Cassy to say she was not mildly enjoying herself, although Daphne seemed more frustrated she had yet to hit her.

She should really express her anger more, thought Cassy as she dodged another spell. She could not help but feel the anger was most likely directed at her, so it was probably the opportunity to vent she had been waiting for years for. It was no secret Daphne detested her friendship with Astoria. She knew she probably could have settled that if she had really cared. If she had made more of an effort to get to know Daphne simultaneously, she would most likely not be trying to maim her in the classroom, but at the same time, Cassy was not bothered by that. It was a challenge now.

Suddenly, a shield glimmered in front of her. Invisible to Daphne, the defence buffered the blow of her blunt and forceful magical push. The hex ricocheted, forcing Cassy to step backwards and her wand-arm pushed the shield upwards with it. Several jars smashed behind her and a painting swung and dropped from the wall. She turned immediately to repair the damage, but Professor Snape had already descended upon her.

'Minus ten points for recklessness,' he sneered.

The jars collected themselves and swooped back onto the shelf.

'My apologies, Professor,' she said curtly.

His eyes glazed over her and to the others around the room. Cassy took the opportunity to follow suit. Closest to her was Harry and Ron. Ron's face was a deep purple from exertion, his wand was held high in front of him. Harry stood opposite and waited for something to happen with a face of mild concern for it looked as though Ron would pass out at any given moment if he did not take a second to relax and breathe. Beyond them were Neville and Hermione. Neville's lips moved and Hermione stubbornly stood in place at the oncoming jinx. It dissipated only feet from her, her shield successful.

'Pathetic, Weasley,' snapped Professor Snape. 'Move aside. I'll show you how it's done.'

Professor Snape pulled his wand from his sleeve and flared his arm out towards Harry. Immediately, Harry's own wand was raised and a loud 'Protego' left his lips before Professor Snape had a chance to so much as wave it. There was a dark sense of satisfaction within Cassy when the professor's feet left the floor and an ever greater one when he soared backwards into the very glass veils he had just fixed. They fell around him, shattering into a thousand pieces with sharp echoes filling the silent classroom. He raised his wand to a student. He had mocked and criticised someone in order to clear the floor to attack Harry; he deserved to be humiliated. He always did things like that, always sought to demean another. Defence Against the Dark Arts was no different. It was only now more dangerous.

Cassy watched him stand with half-lidded eyes. Her enthusiasm for the class had quite died.

'Do you not remember, Potter,' Professor Snape sneered, 'that we were practising non-verbal spells?'

'Yes,' said Harry shortly.

'Yes, Sir,' corrected Professor Snape.

'There's no need to call me "Sir", Professor,' drawled Harry.

Cassy bit her lip and turned her head away. Several gasps and snickers echoed through the room. A vague shade of red lit up Professor Snape's sallow cheeks.

'Detention,' he barked.

Harry did not look the least bit disheartened by the punishment. He continued to regard their teacher with a disinterested stare and when the bell finally rang for the end of the lesson they were each given lengthy essays to complete for the end of the week, which was undoubtedly as a result of Harry. Cassy, Harry, Neville, and Hermione ate quickly as to spend their lunch studying as to at least make headway on the task. The first day of term saw the library empty, save a few wandering first-years who occasionally stopped to gawk at Harry.

Harry sighed when a small girl appeared at his elbow. He had just told another to go away and that she could not have an autograph when the other skipped into her place.

'A letter,' squeaked the girl. She shoved an envelope into Harry's hands.

'Er – thanks,' he muttered and her face flushed immediately. He paid her no attention. He turned the envelope in his hands before flicking it open only when she scampered away towards a huddle of first-year Hufflepuffs and out of sight. It was not a love-letter then. Cassy was almost disappointed; she had been teasing him about his young admirers.

'Who's it from?' asked Neville.

'Dumbledore!' exclaimed Harry. 'He wants me to meet him on Saturday at seven.'

'That's quick,' remarked Cassy.

'Yeah, whatever he wants to teach me must be important. I'll ask about continuing the DA then too,' he said.

'The DA?' questioned Hermione, surprised.

Harry waved a hand flippantly and shoved the letter in his pocket. 'Not officially. Cassy mentioned that it might be good to think about what we faced in the Ministry, y'know, pool together and work on some things Snape might not want to bother with.'

Neville grinned. 'Excellent.'

'Just the six of us?' asked Hermione.

Harry nodded, no keener on the idea of leading another group now than he had been when Cassy had suggested the revival in the summer. He would check with Professor Dumbledore that it was okay to have the association, just so that should anyone stumble across them there would be no repercussions. With any luck, they would resume their practice in the Room of Requirement.

'And Ron, if he wants,' added Harry, 'but that's it. Let's just keep it small this time around.'

The class that followed lunch was Potions. Cassy's enthusiasm had Hermione curious about the new teacher, but it did not do much to entice Harry into feeling any sort of anticipation. He pursed his lips. Whatever made Cassy so excited was usually either strange, dangerous, or very intricate and difficult. From his own experience of Professor Slughorn, strange was his chosen category and if he could possibly avoid the man, he would.

As they walked, Cassy explained to Hermione where she had first met Professor Slughorn, how he was considered a very well respected intellectual and was a man with supposedly unending ties to powerful and famous individuals. Despite herself, Hermione looked interested, even though he represented very much the type of person she claimed to hate – someone who used others' good fortunes to help themselves. Cassy supposed she was having an effect on her. After all, Cassy intended to do the very same back to him.

'Are you sure you really like him for his brain, or because he likes your power, Milady,' teased Harry. 'He's only after you for your name and title now.'

'And?' asked Cassy simply.

Harry snorted. 'He's still a bit of a creep, if you ask me. Will you calm down? Your smirk concerns me.'

'I always smirk,' protested Cassy.

'Yeah, and it often concerns me then too,' he quipped. 'You make it look like you're happy he only likes you for your title.'

'The man is a genius,' she insisted conversationally. 'I will gladly embrace any quirks of his to learn from him. Besides, I am pleased. It will give me more leeway with my actions until I can find a way to make him think of me as a good person to invest in, if not like me as a person all together.'

'Weirdo,' he kidded.

There was a range of students outside the classroom deep in the dungeons. The lessons had all merged with the number of people in each elective class having dropped substantially. The three met with Ernie Macmillan, who, like Cassy, dropped Muggle Studies. He grumbled about only receiving an 'E' and Cassy nodded internally. The exam was harsh. It made her slightly relieved that Ernie, who had expressed almost unending enthusiasm for the subject struggled too. He was the only Hufflepuff to take Potions. There were many more Ravenclaws and even more Slytherins. It was only Cassy, Harry, Hermione, and reluctantly, Ron who represented Gryffindor.

After Professor Slughorn greeted them warmly, patted Harry on the back and beamed at Cassy and Zabini, Ernie joined the Gryffindors at a table. He did not bother to hide his confusion at the familiarity of their new teacher to them and Cassy did not bother to answer his silent question. Harry sighed deeply.

Various potions bubbled around the room. A mixture of honeyed smells filled the air, some unfamiliar while others conjured sweet scenes in Cassy's mind, old associations and memories that she had not thought of in a long time. The smell of treacle tart radiated around her. Instantly, she thought of a late night conversation she had shared with Harry in the summer before fifth-year, when they had both been at their lowest and had sat in the kitchen one night with no one but each other for company, eating their way through a freshly baked tart Mrs Weasley had lovingly prepared for her that day. There was the smell of the grass after rain; it used to sift in through the bedroom window on the grey afternoons Cassy was unable to leave the house, bringing deep earthy smells with a gentle patter of drops splattering from the guttering above. Old books had a smell she would never forget, often having had her head buried in them as a child. She still loved them, the older the better, their ideas unique and often skewed, fascinating and telling.

A sharp pain drew her from the haze. Cassy jolted, her eyes blazing as she rounded on the assailant. Grey-eyes looked back at her lazily. Malfoy smiled as he kicked the textbook that now lay on the floor across the ground and into a cabinet of veils. The force wobbled the ancient unit. A single veil toppled from it and shattered, spilling pink, smoking liquid on the corner of the book. It hissed and crackled as it spread, consuming the pages and leaving only a white whirl of smoke in an instant.

Cassy sneered.

'Fifty-points from Slytherin,' called a cold voice.

They both turned sharply towards Professor Slughorn. His face was stony and the bright glint of excitement he had had at the door was gone. 'I do not tolerate such actions in my classroom.'

'It was an accident! She dropped it and I kicked it when I walked by,' insisted Malfoy to no avail. Professor Slughorn's expression did not soften as he told him to take a seat. He deducted another ten points for lying.

Malfoy hissed as he left and Cassy knew she would be made to compensate for it later

'There is a spare book in the cupboard. It might be a little out of date, but it will only be an edition or two earlier, I'm sure,' said Professor Slughorn, smiling kindly.

'Thank-you, Sir,' said Cassy.

'Here, have my one.' A book was suddenly waved in her face.

'Oh, what a gentleman!' gushed Professor Slughorn when Harry thrust his textbook into her arms.

'I don't mind using an old one,' said Cassy as Professor Slughorn turned his attention to Ron, who he pointed towards the cupboard as well with a quick explanation.

'It's probably better you use the more up to date on. It doesn't really matter to me if I use old instructions that aren't as good. Potions is your thing, right?' he said.

Cassy smiled at the offered book. She took it, refusing to look at him and inwardly marvelled at how stupidly and unnecessarily thoughtful he was sometimes.

When Harry returned to the table – to find Cassy promptly ignoring the bright, knowing smile of Neville – he brought a very old, tattered book back with him. Ron had a slightly less-used one in his hands.

The lesson soon began and the reason for the various potions around the room became apparent. Each one was a potion they would attempt to make that year. The first was a colourless liquid in the form of Veritaserum, which looked like plain boiling water. The next was Polyjuice, a potion a majority of their table were personally familiar with. He then moved towards the potion closest to Cassy and her friends. Cassy did not bother to raise her hand to answer, she would only be smothered by Hermione's eager answers if she did.

'Amortentia,' she called out when he stopped beside it. 'The strongest love potion in the world.'

It had a distinctive sheen, a mother of pearl colour that changed with the light. Even without having looked at it, she knew what it was the moment the wonderful smells drifted towards her and a dreamy fog had clouded her brain for that split second upon sitting. She ignored it now she knew what it was, but the shire promise that potion ignited within an unsuspecting soul was nearly overwhelming.

'Right you are,' beamed Professor Slughorn. 'Almost impossible to make, too. Comes in various strengths depending on the weight of the subject and the attractiveness of the giver. A very powerful infatuation. It will never, never cause real affection, but it does a pretty good job of simulating it, which is why it is illegal to use or sell. I, of course, have it for purely academic purposes. Does anyone else know what it smells like?'

'It smells different to each person depending on what attracts them,' answered Hermione.

It's funny, thought Cassy, because she did not consider treacle tart, old books, and rain romantically attractive smells, but they smelt like home and she supposed that was why it was the most powerful potion in the world; it made the drinker think of what made them them, it simulated the security and enjoyment they had in life which aided in cultivating genuine love, not simply lust.

'Excellent. That's the third question you've answered. May I ask your name?' said Professor Slughorn.

'Hermione Granger,' said Hermione, shyly grinning.

'A relative of Hector Dagworth-Granger who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?' he asked excitedly.

'I doubt it, Sir. I'm Muggle-born,' she said.

'Oh?' he said curiously. 'You must be the Muggle-born friend Harry spoke of! Oh, yes, I see now. Well, twenty-points to Gryffindor.'

Harry huffed a smothered laugh and Cassy followed his smirking gaze to Malfoy, who looked as though someone had slapped him. He must have expected Professor Slughorn to be unfavourable to Gryffindors as Professor Snape had been, having been one himself when at school. Cassy inwardly smirked. If she was lucky, Professor Slughorn would teach him that Slytherin was not always the best and that even his own would turn to fight against the branding she suspected his left wrist bore.

'Sir, what's in the small cauldron on your desk?' asked Ernie.

Professor Slughorn's eyes lit up. 'Oh,' he said as though he had forgotten that very potion, though his expression showed clear excitement. 'That, class, if a very special potion.'

'Felix Felics,' said Cassy softly, having caught sight of it on the way in. It was a bubbling gold mixture, impossible to miss.

'Correct!' he announced joyfully. 'You truly do know your stuff, Miss Black. Does anyone know the other name for this potion?'

'Liquid Luck, more commonly. As the name describes, it makes fortunate things happen to the user for the day, resulting in what some call a perfect day,' said Hermione.

Malfoy sat up straighter.

Cassy flicked her eyes back to the teacher. 'More than a mouthful within a moon's cycle can cause giddiness and recklessness, even delusion. It is highly poisonous in large quantities and almost impossible to brew correctly, many of the ingredients are difficult to obtain and it is banned in all major competitions.'

She watched Malfoy deflate again at her words.

Just what was he doing that was so impossible he would consider such a potion necessary? She wondered.

'Excellent,' said Professor Slughorn. 'This potion will be the prize of today's challenge. I have taken it twice in my life. Each day was absolutely perfect, but it can cause addiction, so the winner will receive this bottle.' He held up a tiny veil. 'Enough for a few mouthfuls and twelve perfect hours. What I am asking each of you to try to create can be found on page ten of your textbooks.'

There was a scramble of turning pages.

'The person who makes the best Draught of the Living Dead will win this prize,' he finished.

Everyone burst into life. Cassy did not scramble to her bag to retrieve her supplies. Calmly, she read through the instructions very carefully, drinking in the exact motion each one needed, the numbers and times. It was complex. It was more difficult than the Polyjuice Potion and that took a month to brew with considerable management. It did not need to be perfect, though. He had merely stated it was to be the "best", so all she needed to do was make a potion better than everyone else's.

A knock sounded on the heavy door. An exasperated Professor McGonagall poked her head inside.

'I apologise, Horace,' she said with a sigh, 'but may I borrow Cassy for a moment? Someone is wishing to speak with her and is very insistent about it. I fear if it is delayed any longer someone will go mysteriously missing for a week and it shall not be me.'

Cassy did not need to be summoned by her Head of House. With the concentration and rivalry thick in the air, no one dared speak to one another, so she had heard every word clearly from the back of the room. Professor McGonagall walked swiftly and sighed heavily as Cassy followed her down the corridor silently. She had almost asked if the person could wait until dinner so she had a chance to complete the potion, but she did not know who it was waiting for her. If they were insistent enough to wait all morning and for her to be called from class, then it had to be important to someone involved.

'A visitor appeared wanting to speak with you this morning. I am sure you are aware of all the extra security Hogwarts now has, so as you may imagine it took several hours for her to be allowed into the school. I was going to leave her there, but Professor Dumbledore took pity on her,' she explained, irritably.

'Her?' echoed Cassy.

'You'll see in a minute,' assured Professor McGonagall.

The two stopped outside Professor McGonagall's office. She pushed open the door and immediately Cassy's eyes were drawn to a sunny-yellow figure. The dress was new, the shoes unmarked save a small splatter of mud on the two-inch heels from the trek up to the castle gates. Blonde hair was tamed and curled in contrast to the last time she had set eyes on the woman she openly disliked. Rita Skeeter beamed. She dropped the files she had been snooping in back onto the desk and waltzed towards Cassy with her arms spread widely as though expecting a hug.

'Cassiopeia Black, how wonderful to see you,' she exclaimed.

'Rita Skeeter. Why do you wish to speak with me?' asked Cassy curtly.

'Now, now, I'm not here to do anything untoward. I just wanted to congratulate you myself. A little birdy told me you have become the direct heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Black – ring and all!' she cooed.

Behind her, Professor McGonagall took a sharp breath.

Cassy blinked slowly. 'You want to interview me.'

It was not a question and they both knew it.

'As sharp as ever,' said Skeeter, smirking. 'It is such a big turn of events for a young woman to have such an opportunity. Everyone will know the Head of the Black House, how you became who you are, and your relationship with your dear, tormented father… Think of it as a way to ensure that when you turn seventeen, everyone will be watching with baited breath for your words.'

Professor McGonagall scoffed.

Cassy narrowed her eyes and yet a smirk pulled at her lips. 'You are to write exactly what I say. If you twist a single fact, you might just find yourself back out of a job.'

Skeeter did not bat an eyelid at the threat. She waved her hand flippantly and rolled her eyes, although Cassy suspected the latter might have been directed at her Head of House who let out a cry of disbelief.

'You'll sue me, yes, yes,' said Skeeter. 'You do like your suing. I wouldn't dream of it anyway. I remember the last time you complained about me.'

'How did you know about my position?' asked Cassy curiously.

Skeeter hummed. 'I was out getting some photos for my new magazine article – you know how popular your father is – and I happened to see the ring on your finger in one of the developed photographs.'

Skeeter must have had eyes like a hawk to spot the thin, black band in a sea of darkly dressed figures. She did not bother to comment further on that and not on the fact the woman had been taking photographs of her father for whatever reason either. All she needed to do was to ensure Skeeter took a good angle with the article. She had plans for her ring. They were not fully formed within the day she had had it, but she was certain of the direction she intended to use her new-found powers for. It was a stance she had intended to take regardless, one that would cause her grief and require dedication and effort, it would force her to use the skills she had been taught as a child and the ones she had cultivated for herself growing up. It was a difficult task, but the position just made it easier to be heard and Skeeter had just made it even quicker. If Skeeter was willing to aid her, even for her own selfish reasons, then she would not decline it, no matter the indigent noises Professor McGonagall had made behind her.

* * *

 **Chapter seven is up.**

 **If anyone would notice such a small detail as a ring, it would be Skeeter and you can bet she would fight to get a good story out of it. Her forced exile from writing for a year ended recently, so she's looking for her big comeback in Cassy and Cassy is up for it.**

 **I had a few thoughts about the love potion and smells. I don't really see how it reflects what attracts you unless it is simply relaxing and making someone feel like they're in familiar territory to encourage romance. I mean, Harry smells treacle tart and I don't think he's ever looked at a girl eating it and thought '** _ **Oh, God, yes'.**_ **You know what I mean? It might just be a fun added fact of the potion, but I assume it relates to the perception of what makes a person comfortable and then those feelings are used to make a person drink it or transfer those feelings to the giver? I don't know. Love potions would certainly be illegal if they were real anyway.**

 **As always, please review! Sunday is my birthday. I'm getting old.**

 **Thanks!**


	8. Draco's determination

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix 

**Chapter VIII: Draco's determination**

When Cassy arrived at dinner that evening, she found most of the hall already seated. The interview with Skeeter had endured as long as she expected it might, the task elongated significantly by Cassy's outright refusal to respond to certain questions and her ability to talk around others altogether. It was a risk speaking to her at all, but she felt confident that Skeeter would not want to antagonise her because that would mean the exclusivity of the interview would be voided when Cassy inevitably found another outlet to complain about Skeeter's writings to.

Cassy slipped into an empty space beside Luna at the Gryffindor table.

'Your things are in the common room,' said Neville.

'Oh, good. Thank-you,' she said, looking to Harry and Hermione who would have taken them up for her. Neither gave a response to indicate who it was, or even that they had really heard her.

Hermione turned with an awkwardly forced look of indifference on her face. 'Where did you go so quickly?'

Cassy blinked. The high voice and unnatural nonchalance made it almost sound as though Hermione was angry with her, but for what possible reason Cassy could not fathom. She glanced at Harry and twisted the ring on her finger idly. She said, 'I had a visitor to speak with. Who won the potion?'

Immediately, Hermione's façade fell and with curled lips, she turned to stare angrily at the side of Harry's head.

'You won?' asked Cassy with no small amount of surprise.

'Wow, thanks,' he retorted sarcastically.

'He had help,' snapped Hermione. 'He cheated.'

'It's not my fault the book I had had little tips in the margins. You would have followed them too if you had it!' he insisted, scowling.

'A book? You followed instructions from a book?' demanded Ginny, aghast. Her fork clattered loudly onto the silver plate from Luna's other side.

Harry was affronted for a moment, before he shook his head adamantly. 'It's a totally different kind of book to the diary. It doesn't talk back, for one. Hermione's checked it over for enchantments and she didn't find a thing.'

There was not a word of assurance from Hermione. Her mouth remained furiously closed and Ginny hardly seemed comforted by the news. However, Cassy was more curious than anything else. If it was not enchanted, then she did not see the harm in following the old instructions; it was, after all, a school book from Professor Slughorn's own collection, not that she would admit that until she had checked they were safe herself. Besides, she dearly wanted to know what little scribbles had taken her would-be victory instead in her absence.

'May I have a look?' she asked.

Hermione sneered with an odd expression of both resentment and triumph as she looked from the book to Cassy.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled the book from his pocket.

In return, she raised an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged a shoulder awkwardly. It seemed he too had realised the strangeness in his actions. She had expected him to say it was in the common room and she could look later, not that he had kept it on his person. It was almost impossible to get him to read something that was either not entirely fictional - he had a deep love of things completely fantastical - or not about Quidditch. She turned the battered book over in her hands. On the inside of the front cover it read: 'The Half-Blood Prince'.

Interesting, Cassy noted, either a pretentious self-given title, a nickname, or a surname and a blood status. Though, she had never heard of a renowned figure by the title, nor anyone called Prince.

Without much care, she flicked the pages with her thumb. Tiny, black scrawls flickered with each passing page. There was scarcely a page that did not have some sort of annotation on it, a diagram, or some sort of passing muse unrelated to the task. Finally, she turned to the page with "Draught of the Living Dead" titled in bold. She read: 'Crush with flat side of silver knife' and then further instructions punctuated the stirring time with one clockwise for every seven counter ones. She hummed.

'Do you think there's something odd about it?' asked Hermione eagerly.

Cassy shook her head. 'The knife tip works, of course, because it does not change the property of the juice inside and the clockwise stir allows the heavier elements to mingle as the flow goes back on itself. They are perfectly legitimate alterations,' she admitted. Either the person who had owned this book was keenly familiar with every ingredient on the list, or they had conducted a lot of trials of the deadly potion somewhere within the castle walls. It was an interesting book. It was a shame Harry had given her his to borrow now.

It only took another Potion lesson for her enthusiasm for the book to dwindle and die. Professor Slughorn praised Harry as some sort of genius, he may have well have had the gift of Merlin in his eyes for the compliments never stopped flowing. In the second lesson, Cassy had taken her belongings and moved as far away from her boyfriend as possible. Ernie joined her, more familiar with her than the others, and the two established their own workspace away from Harry and his book.

She put in an order by owl for another set of potion ingredients to practise in her own time and had taken out an advanced textbook from the deep, dusty depths of the library to study more. Whilst many of the alterations Harry followed made sense and when he made them she knew exactly why, she was determined to do so in her own right and if changes were going to be made to the instructions, she was going to make her own.

Harry had initially laughed at her and called her competitive, but the humour faded when he realised he had boosted in her mental ranks to a rival now and that was a very precarious position to be in. Every action he took in the class was like a small declaration of war and she had to match it or surpass it and no longer spoke about the class with him; she wanted as much of a fair fight as possible. Plus, he lamented, it meant Cassy would no longer look over his Potions homework.

Hermione was no more impressed by the competition than Cassy was. While the latter thrived on it normally, both girls agreed that they were not going to be beaten by the scribblings in a book from 1940. Hermione channelled her efforts into discovering who the 'Prince' was, but all she had uncovered was a woman named Eileen Prince. Harry adamantly dismissed it. He was certain the owner could not be a woman, much to the chagrin of the young women that surrounded him; it was not enough for Hermione to let it go, though.

Professor Slughorn invited his favourites to dinner on the first Saturday of the term. Harry had his excuse ready because of his meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Cassy, on the other hand, did not need an excuse. She smirked at the note that arrived one morning at the breakfast table; it was exactly what she had been anticipating. While Cassy was pleased by the invitation and a chance to use her faux, learnt social skills she locked and buried in everyday life, she seemed to be the only one of her friends who was. Ginny had received one too and so had Hermione, the latter only mildly interested. Professor Slughorn emitted the same vibe to Hermione as he did to Harry. It was not a wholly unpleasant impression, but there was the distinct feeling of something peculiar beneath his surface that unsettled her. She had to admit his academic brilliance, though, so without much of a fight she agreed to go.

Neville was not invited, unsurprisingly, and neither was Ron, although he seemed to take much more offense to the lack of invitation than Neville did. In fact, Neville seemed relieved.

There was not much time to fully consider the invitation that arrived Wednesday morning, for Cassy had her first Alchemy lesson later that day. Although she set off from lunch with plenty of time to find the classroom, she was not the first one there. To figures, both tall, one female and one male. Dark-skinned with high cheekbones, and looking as elegant as ever Zabini merely flicked his eyes to Cassy when she approached. Daphne was beside him, her long, blonde hair draped around her shoulders. It was to her mild surprise when Daphne turned to look directly at her. In her hands was a textbook, the title of which was identical to Cassy's own.

'Good morning, Zabini, Greengrass,' she greeted politely.

'Black,' said Daphne shortly.

'Congratulations on your ring, by the way,' said Zabini as he eyed her left hand. If Cassy could tell anything from his appraising eye, it was that he was mildly impressed with her.

The three entered a pleasant conversation that really accomplished very little besides demonstrating the progress of Cassy's gentle efforts with the Slytherins. The relationship she had built with Zabini remained unspoilt by the summer and Daphne begrudgingly included herself in the topic of their summer holidays, even if it was merely out of curiosity of Cassy's father. Her expression remained cold and after a time, Cassy met her eye with a civil stare. She turned back to Zabini as he began to speak once more and Cassy did not look at her again.

The frown Daphne wore was a very particular one. While Cassy was not particularly proficient in positive emotions directed at her, scowls, glares, frowns, twitches, flinches, darting eyes, and even blinks were things she knew well. The frown she was currently faced with was the one that Cassy knew meant Daphne was evaluating. The slight twitch when Cassy spoke meant she was angry with her and that, without a doubt, was because Astoria had thrown her arms around Cassy very publically that morning in the Great Hall as they passed one another. Daphne hated it and worst of all for her, nearly the entire school would have seen it because their eyes were fixed upon their proclaimed Chosen One who had been walking beside her. Still, Daphne remained uncertain of her and that was fine with Cassy. She could work with uncertain.

It was certainly preferable to the heated seething she would get directed at her reflection when the two attended ballet lessons as children together. Even though neither were the best in the class, Daphne had taken a definite dislike to her from then on.

'Are you going to stand against him?' questioned Daphne suddenly. Her arms were folded across her chest.

'Excuse me?' said Cassy.

'You-Know-Who,' said Daphne, 'are you going to stand against him?'

Zabini did not say a word and Cassy regarded Daphne calculatingly for a moment. Slowly, she opened her mouth and said, 'The world is not perfect. Muggleborns are not very well integrated into the existing system and so the community has conflict, but removing them entirely is not the way to solve that. Those that believe Pure-Bloods will have more freedoms under Lord Voldemort are fools. Idealistic, ignorant fools. He will not allow freedom of expression, or of thought. No opinion to him is equal to his own and the rights that many bigots take for granted are the first ones they shall lose. No one will be his equal, everyone shall be equally inferior.'

She did not answer Daphne's question directly, but it did not seem to matter. Daphne turned her head away and Zabini bowed his own. Whether it was her words of her icy stare that forced their averted eyes, she did not have a chance to discover, for a cheerful voice called to her and she turned to see Ernie waving from the other end of the corridor. The last then to arrive was Padma Patil, whom Cassy had never had the time to engage with before although she seemed more docile and quick-witted than her giggly sister. She gave Cassy and Ernie a small half-smile, having been in the DA last year too.

The bell rang for the beginning of class and the five still stood outside. They shifted and waited, idly conversing as time continued to tick and the door remained closed. For ten minutes, they waited until a small, east-Asian man poked his head through the slither of the newly opened door. At full height, he was about equal height to Cassy, a long, silk coat fluttered down to the floor and his white beard was almost just as long, though braided and looped into his belt. For a moment, he scrutinised them with narrowed, thoughtful eyes, then he smiled.

'Welcome to Alchemy,' he said, bowing. He stepped aside and held open the door to allow them each to file in. Immediately, the smell of sandalwood filled the air around them. Dark bookshelves stretched across the back wall and paintings littered the wall the door occupied; rivers and trees, great structures and thoughtful faces occupied every frame, none moved quickly, only gentle shifts and fluttered leaves in a painted breeze. Plants were littered around the room and several were huddled onto his desk at the front of the room. Behind that was a large, square blackboard. Five tables were set out, each large enough to hold four people in any other lesson.

'Please take a seat at a different table each,' he said whilst he shut the door. He had an obvious accent, but his pronunciation was crisp and clear as though he had spent many years speaking English often. 'I am Professor Fa Sun, I am from China as many of you will have guessed. Each of you is here because you are exceptionally bright, if not, you would not have been accepted onto my course and you would be beyond my help. Now you are here I will help you in any way I can, but please bear this in mind: this subject is difficult. It is possible to study the same process for many years and not progress at all.'

While most teacher's spent their first lesson stressing the importance of studying for their course, this introduction was particularly bleak. Padma bit her lip on the table over from Cassy's and Ernie frowned.

'You have a large table each because this is the space I expect you shall need for any projects I set. That said, any projects will largely be theoretical, so any physical changes will mostly be bonuses. I don't expect anyone to be turning lead into gold anytime soon – which, I am required to inform you is very illegal. If you must try it, please do it outside of my classroom.'

Ernie and Padma giggled. Cassy gave a small smile, which he returned when he caught her eye.

'So, let's introduce ourselves.'

* * *

After giving Cassy a quick kiss, Harry left on Saturday evening for his lesson with Professor Dumbledore. Cassy watched the portrait hole shut before her friends burst into conspiring murmurs.

'What do you think they'll be doing?' asked Neville eagerly.

'Duelling?' offered Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

They had already talked over the possibilities no less than a hundred times since Harry received the invitation. While curious, Cassy had no interest in reliving the same theories over and over again. She was more interested in her new alchemy book she was reading whilst simultaneously attempting to silently cast a shield charm without any target at all. She had a bruise on her arm from her last attempt to wordlessly charm the armchair to life; it had jumped and bucked Ginny onto the floor and Cassy had received a punch in return, no matter her protest that it was, in fact, an accident. Privately, she admitted she should have taken notice of the chair's clawed wooden feet for the personality of an inanimate object often stemmed from its physical appearance, but really, she maintained, it was all for the greater good. Those words had only earnt her another punch.

'C'mon, Ron. We'll be late for the rounds if we don't go now,' said Hermione, standing.

Ron groaned. 'I swear, if I catch Dean snogging my sister one more time – '

'Oh, honestly, leave them alone,' sighed Hermione.

'She's my sister!' retorted Ron, scandalised.

'And if she found you snogging me would you expect her to stop speaking to me like you have Dean?' snapped Hermione.

Ron choked on his own spit and Neville averted his eyes as though he was about to witness something he really should not see. Cassy raised an eyebrow and catalogued the moment away, for in the dim firelight of the Gryffindor common room, Hermione almost appeared to be blushing.

'Hurry up! I've got plans after our duties are done,' she said quickly.

'Yes, please hurry. I have plans this evening too,' said Cassy.

'Like what?' asked Hermione with narrowed eyes. 'Why are you going to the boys' staircase?'

Cassy waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder before she disappeared around the bend. With no hesitancy, she rummaged through Harry's trunk and pulled out the old Invisibility Cloak. The Marauder's Map was then taken from her pocket and unfolded across the lid of the trunk. She scanned the castle for a moment, twisting and turning the various folds before it returned to her pocket and the cloak was thrown over her shoulders. Back in the common room, Hermione and Ron had yet to leave. They both watched the staircase for her return and she slipped by unseen until the portrait hole swung open.

'Cassy!' the three called.

She climbed out, very much invisible to her friends and sauntered down the corridor without a word. The marble staircases were easy to navigate down to the entrance hall and students still lingered in the corridors down to the depths of the dungeons, for that, Cassy was grateful. It meant there was no reason she would not be able to sneak into the Slytherin common room with one of the incoming students. Whilst she already knew the password, this prevented any suspicious or skittish eyes noticing the unusual lack of entry when the door swung open. After all, Malfoy was well aware of the fact that Harry owned an Invisibility Cloak.

The common room had the same eerie, green glow to it that it had when she last visited. The Black Lake above was still behind the tall, arching windows. Lamps hung lowly from the ceiling, their flames also tinged green, the farthest corners were dark and unlit, yet figures still gathered there. A large fire crackled beneath an ornate mantle.

To one side, Daphne and Shandy were playing chess. Malfoy was by the fireplace, sunken into the seat with Pansy Parkinson's arm looped around his. Her free hand tousled his blond hair. When closer, Cassy clearly heard Crabbe and Goyle's complaints about their homework for Care of Magical Creature classes. She had never suspected the pair enjoyed the subject, but, she supposed, they were not the brightest, so the changes they qualified for much else was unlikely. Hagrid accepted anyone with a passing grade, telling her the more the merrier when it came to his passion.

'You should have dropped that fools class,' scoffed Malfoy. 'At any rate, it's got to be better than Potions. Slughorn just panders to Potter, the Mudblood, and Black. He thinks they are brilliant.'

'Don't worry, Draco,' cooed Parkinson. 'You don't need his approval. You already have the approval of the only man that matters.'

Malfoy hummed and smirked.

Quickly, Goyle shifted forward and put his elbows on his knees. He peered around the common room and for a moment his eyes fluttered over Cassy's invisible form. She took a step closer.

'You've still not told us what he's asked you to do,' said Goyle, barely below his normal speaking level, which was usually well-suited for a person hard of hearing.

'Shut up, you idiot,' hissed Malfoy, sneering. 'Not everyone needs to know.'

If anyone had been curious before, which they most likely would not have been for it would have been easy to play the comment off as meaning anything else, they certainly would be intrigued at his heated demand. Parkinson cooed softly again and stroked his head.

'No one heard,' she assured him sweetly.

'You've told Blaise,' said Crabbe. 'He's friends with Daphne and she has her Blood-Traitor sister she's always trying to defend, who's friends with Black. Even that arrogant pixie probably knows by now!'

Arrogant Pixie, Cassy repeated in her mind. Charming.

For a moment, it looked as though Malfoy was going to leap from his chair and strangle Crabbe for his noisy insistence, but he did not. Instead, he shrugged and sunk back into the sofa.

'Scarhead already listened in, didn't he? He already knows enough and I do not give a toss what Black thinks either. And, for your information, no one knows what I am doing, not you, not Blaise, and not her,' he said coolly.

'Not even Snape?' asked Crabbe.

Malfoy's face contorted. 'Not even Snape.'

With that, he was gone from his chair. Quickly, he strode across the room towards a door on the far left of the large room. Cassy followed close behind. The door was thrown open and she ducked in behind him just before it rebounded back on itself. The pair emerged into a large corridor with seven doors. He slammed open another and collapsed onto his bed. From a distance, Cassy watched his every movement carefully. He did not look exhausted, yet his movements suggested there was a heavy ache in his bones. He was sluggish, stiff, with a slight unconscious jitter in his fingers. He had been fine before, if aggravated. He now looked trapped.

Just what has Professor Snape done to you? Thought Cassy.

He was supposed to be working for the Order of the Phoenix, a spy for them and a faux one for Voldemort. More than that, though, he was Malfoy's godfather. He was a man who had sworn to protect him from birth, so it was only right that when Narcissa and Lucius could not give their all for their son then it would be him who would step up. That still left the dilemma of what task it was Voldemort had ordered him to complete. The only question that lingered in Cassy's mind was if Professor Dumbledore was aware of it all.

The door opened behind her.

'Draco,' called Goyle eagerly. 'You're missing a fight between the Greengrasses. Astoria's just announced to the entire common room that she loves Mudbloods!'

'What?' asked Malfoy, stunned. Whatever deep thoughts had been plaguing his mind were forgotten. 'She's actually said that?'

'Something like that, yeah,' he said.

Cassy felt a chill run down her spine.

Intrigued, Malfoy followed Crabbe back into the common room and Cassy trailed them. It was with no small amount of faith that Cassy hoped Astoria had been more tactful than Crabbe had said. After all, she was a smart girl. Yet, there was still a part of her mind that conjured frighteningly realistic scenarios of Astoria announcing her lack of hatred for Muggles and Muggle-borns in retaliation to her something her sister said and the situation then spiralling out of control. Astoria was not in the common room, though, and nor was Daphne. There were many whispers. Cassy glanced over the occupants' faces, seeking one of a few friends Astoria was known to have. She spotted two, a pair of dark-haired girls, huddled in the corner, sunken into their seats with shifty eyes and nervous scrambling of their tongues.

Heavily, Cassy sighed. Malfoy had returned to his seat beside Parkinson when Cassy left the Slytherin common room. She slipped out the door and strode down the dark dungeon corridor, the cloak was ripped off her and she held a cool, just visibly tensed, expression on her face as her mind whirled rapidly.

She knew two things: first, that Draco Malfoy was certainly a Death Eater with a mission involving something or someone in the castle, and second, that Astoria had very willingly and, by the sounds of it, very foolishly announced her loyalty to anyone who was not Voldemort. This left a few tasks that Cassy knew she needed to complete before term ended and the priority of which was to make a plan of how to persuade Malfoy against his task. She did not need to catch him doing whatever his untoward task was, she just needed to try to make him understand that Voldemort would not be what he expected him to be. She had to try, she owed him and Narcissa that much, whatever their differences now.

When Cassy arrived back in the common room, Hermione was waiting expectantly.

'C'mon,' she urged. 'It's only forty-minutes until Slughorn's dinner party starts!'

* * *

 **Oops, a two-week absence. My updating may be a bit slower than before due to my employment leaving very little time between coming home and going to bed to be awake for another day. I've also got family stresses to deal with. As is life, though. I will certainly find the time somewhere.**

 **Thank-you to those who reviewed and the people who sent me birthday wishes. It was lovely.**

 **I don't have much to say about the chapter other than Cassy doesn't like her new-found competition much. She's a Black, she's competitive to the bone!**

 **Thanks!**


	9. A tense reception

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix 

**Chapter IX: A tense reception**

Dressed in a knee-length black and white dress, Cassy departed the dormitory with Hermione exactly forty-minutes later. Hermione wore a pale blue dress, pastels always suited her in a way they did not Cassy, while Ginny wore a darker green. The two collected her from the common room where she stood waiting and bid farewell to Neville and Ron. Cassy refused to walk as quickly as the other two. She maintained that it was improper to be on time to a function. There was an order to it, she explained as she strolled behind, and that meant not appearing too keen or too disinterested, for one made the host wary and the other made the attendee disrespectful. Hermione, though, had only been late a handful of times in her life and did not quite follow Cassy's etiquette. However, Ginny fell back to walk with Cassy.

'It's not going to start without us if we're a few minutes late,' she said.

Hermione frowned. 'I just think it's rude to be late, even more so if you do it on purpose!'

At any rate, Hermione had to make the choice to continue to charge ahead and arrive by herself, or to slow her pace and enjoy the walk before facing the crowd of preened so-called school superiors. She chose to walk with them and the girls arrived at Professor Slughorn's office seven minutes late.

The door was opened and his large, circular face popped into view with a beaming smile. He greeted them one after another before the smile began to slip.

'No Harry?' he asked.

'No, Sir. He had a prearranged meeting with the Headmaster tonight,' answered Cassy.

'Unavoidable then,' sighed Professor Slughorn.

The office was large. It was not as grand as Professor McGonagall's office as Deputy Headmistress, but it was larger than Remus' had been. A dark, circular table was situated just off to one side, with a dozen chairs surrounding it. Cabinets lined the opposite walls and towering shelves were stuffed with books above it. Various brass instruments were littered on the free surfaces and especially cramped onto the wide mantle of the grand fireplace that burnt brightly at the far end of the room. Two sofas sat in front of it and what little wall space remained was carefully decorated with the many photographs of his old students and personal favourites.

'Spotted something you like, Miss Black?'

Cassy noted the way he did not refer to her by an informal first name as he did everyone else. The conclusion she had drawn was that it was out of respect for her position, rather than a particular dislike for her. Whilst he wanted to become close to Harry, the Chosen One, he could do so by becoming a familiar, trusted face, but with Cassy it was very different; she was a political entity and he had to ensure she liked him well enough before trying to assume they were comrades in anything, lest he risk offending her and losing all favour. It was commonly done, she had seen many men and women fall at that hurdle when approaching Lucius Malfoy when she was a child. He called it arrogance, though really it was a reflection of his own high-mindedness. If that was the case, Professor Slughorn was truly more self-aware than anyone wanted to acknowledge and Cassy noted the potential benefits of being in his good graces.

'Lily Evans,' she said shortly. 'What year was she in, may I ask?'

A red-haired girl was in a central photograph on the stone wall along with many unfamiliar faces. Her hair was shoulder length, shorter than Cassy had ever seen it.

'Fifth year. My favourite Christmas party by far. I'm afraid I may not remember much of it, truth be told,' he said with a wink. 'Your uncle, Regulus, was there too. Just there, in fact.'

Cassy inspected the photograph closely and spotted him just at the back of the group. He was tall for his age, but short overall, with black hair and pale skin as all the Black family had. He was smiling, which was unusual and had several boys around him who he seemed familiar with.

'Good at Quidditch, very good, indeed. Won Slytherin a more than a fair few games as Seeker when I was Head of House,' continued Professor Slughorn cheerfully. 'It is a shame he went missing, though. A brilliant boy, he was. Always very respectful. I dread to think what the Death Eaters may have done to him. Seventeen-years-old too…'

It was a curious thought that Professor Slughorn was unaware that Regulus had been a Death Eater. Then again, he had died before he had the chance to live amongst them. Born in winter, Regulus had died before reaching his eighteenth birthday mere months after graduation. He had never stood a chance.

'War is a terrible thing. Alas! Listen to an old man's ramblings, how are you finding the first week?' he exclaimed. He herded her back towards the large table, stooped with his eyes focused on only her.

Surrounding the table were Shandy and Stephen, who sat beside one another, then the Carrow sisters, Slytherin twins who were in Astoria's year, as well as McLaggen and Melinda Bobbins, who Professor Slughorn introduced with the commendation that her family owned a large chain of apothecaries. It was not until five minutes later that Zabini arrived and Cassy gave her friends a pointed look each that they both seemed to ignore.

Ginny stubbornly seated herself between Hermione and McLaggen when she and Cassy caught sight of his drifting eyes roaming over their friend. There was absolutely no way that was being allowed to start. Hermione loathed him anyway. Cassy sat on Hermione's other side beside Stephen, who had Shandy beside him. Zabini and McLaggen were on either side of Professor Slughorn; he beamed and clapped his hands. Suddenly, the shallow, silver bowls in front of them filled with hot soup and the tiny plates were holding a bread roll each.

Slowly, Cassy tore the bread apart as she listened carefully to the forced divulgence of information from those surrounding her. Professor Slughorn was keen for them to be as fond of one another as he currently was of them and that meant desperately seeking areas of commonality amongst the very varied students. Favourite lessons had not brought much luck. Cassy's remained Transfiguration – much to her host's insistence he would have to try harder in the future then –and many people responded automatically with Potions, though their reasoning hardly seemed genuine at all. When Ginny admitted she favoured Charms Professor Slughorn laughed.

'That was obvious from your delightful hex!' he bellowed, chortling about something only he knew to have happened.

Hermione's was Arithmancy, to which even Professor Slughorn raised his eyebrows. Cassy could not stop her own dark eyebrows inching upwards when Shandy announced his own favourite class to be Transfiguration too.

Hobbies did not reap much better results. Cassy's lips curled downwards when Shandy replied again. His time was spent on art, painting and sketching, he said, somewhat blankly, as though it was not something he often spoke of.

Of course, she thought dully, he would favour talents I'm abysmal at.

When asked, she responded that hers was the piano, whilst Zabini studied Astrology in his spare time. Professor Slughorn took a great interest in Stephen's woodwork and Cassy described the soldier she had received the year before – he was rather delighted to note the two were friends – and his enjoyment only brightened when Stephen mentioned he was entering modelling with metals. The professor jovially requested a new set of candlestick holders. The good mood was stilted by the Carrow sisters; their hobby, they answered jointly, was taxidermy and even Professor Slughorn could not help but stare at that.

Thankfully, talk soon turned to the famous people Professor Slughorn corresponded with regularly. He was careful not to divulge his favourites too much, after all, noted Cassy, he was surrounded by relatives of those he cultivated to do great things. Many Quidditch stars were on the list, though Cassy and Hermione glanced at one another often to check if the name was familiar to the other when their own minds drew blanks; Ginny withered from her close proximity to their Quidditch ignorance. He mentioned several vampires, which were curious tales, and he even fluttered over his encounters with Nicholas Flamel.

'He died last year, you know. Over six-hundred years old too,' he said conversationally as they ate their desserts. 'Everyone speculates he simply got bored of living, but he and his wife were quite delightful, really.'

Cassy stared straight down at her pudding.

The night began to draw to an end as the clock stuck half-eleven. Whilst Cassy deemed it productive, she had learnt a lot about their professor as well as Shandy and Zabini, it was a relief to exit the warmth of the office and emerge into the brisk night air. She left Ginny to the mercy of Professor Slughorn, who was busy attempting to brag about his affiliation with the captain of the Hollyhead Harpies. Cassy breathed in deeply and when she turned to find Hermione, she met the hazel eyes of Stephen instead.

'Is that your idea of fun? Because I think I've died inside,' he muttered.

Cassy smirked. 'From the conversation or the fact that Shandy seemed to have returned to being your best friend?'

'Yeah, he's been talking to me all week and sits with me in the library again. I don't know what that is about, to be honest. He seems to be just like he was in fourth year,' he said idly.

Before he really met me then, noted Cassy. Did I scare him?

Was it even possible, she contemplated, that she could honestly have scared Shandy into retracting back onto himself? There was a good possibility that he had merely become more sociable with Stephen again, but he had pulled away the year before. He had become a force of his own with a group of devoted friends that she had not seen during her third or fourth year. They had sprung up over summer, like little weeds taking advantage of the Sun. Then, they are gone and Shandy ended up back in the same place he had been. She knew it might have sounded conceited, but in Cassy's mind she knew very well that his change of friends must have had something to do with the incident last year. His aggressiveness faltered and she did not seem him again beyond a silent passing in the halls.

Cassy turned as Shandy exited the room. She gazed with critical eyes and he turned to her blankly. Then, without a word to her, turned to Stephen and bid him a goodnight. She watched him leave.

'Cassy!' hissed a voice.

She turned and Ginny and Hermione were waving her over from around a nearby corner.

Stephen snorted. 'I'll speak to you later.'

'Yes,' sighed Cassy in amusement. 'Goodnight.'

'Night,' he said and waved lazily.

Cassy smiled to Professor Slughorn as the he closed his office door and strode to her friends.

'Thank Merlin,' sighed Ginny. 'McLaggen was only a few minutes from fully stripping to get you to notice him, Hermione.'

'Don't,' groaned Hermione as Cassy laughed. 'He's vile. Never has someone said "I" as much as he did.'

'Just have a really terrible personality when you talk to him. Be…' Ginny trailed off, frowning as she tried to imagine what McLaggen would dislike in a girl.

'Smart?' suggested Hermione lowly. 'I can't imagine he likes girls' with opinions with the amount he talks.'

Cassy scoffed. 'Hermione, everyone knows you are intelligent. That is probably exactly the reason he fancies you. Think about it, he comes from a wealthy, accomplished family. An ambitious girl is probably exactly what he wants. You have no hope.'

Hermione looked between the laughing girls as though her soul had left her body.

* * *

As it turned out, Harry's meeting with Professor Dumbledore was not as any of them expected. It was not a lesson in defence, but of history. He was not taught any superb new tricks to enable him to survive, but what seemed like a long and slow series of lessons in understanding the man and the situation he was to face.

A memory was shown through the pensive that the Headmaster had collected from a Ministry worker named Odgen, who had been called to retrieve Marpin Gaunt for a trial for use of magic in front of a Muggle. It was a fairly standard charge, but Harry explained that the young man he was faced with only spoke Parseltongue and never once a word of English. He was pale, sickly and tall, with eyes that pointed in different directions. A man, his father, named Gaunt had exited the house and pulled a necklace from his shirt. As the heirs of Slytherin, he believed Ogden could not arrest him.

'Gaunt is Voldemort's grandfather,' explained Harry. 'He had a necklace that belonged to Slytherin himself. It didn't make much difference to Ogden, of course, he still needed Marpin to go with him. Anyway, they went inside and there was a third person. She wasn't pretty and you could hardly tell she was there until she Gaunt spoke to her.'

If Harry described a girl as being unattractive, she was either someone he particularly disliked or she was indeed very ugly for Harry rarely registered people as anything but pretty unless they were of either extreme. He continued on that the two men were harsh towards Merope, Voldemort's mother, who her brother teased for being in love with a Muggle man who often passed their house in the evenings.

Instantly, Cassy knew who the man must then be. 'Tom Riddle Senior.'

'Exactly,' said Harry. 'Her father was disgusted by it when her brother said she was in love with him – she denied it, of course. When the memory ended, Dumbledore said when Gaunt and Marpin were arrested later on for attacking Ogden. She brewed a love potion and forced Tom Riddle to marry her. She got pregnant and believed he would love her by then so she stopped giving him the potion. He left her the next day.

'While that's fascinating and everything, why would Dumbledore show you that?' asked Ron, frowning.

'He says I need to know everything I can about Voldemort to fully understand him,' answered Harry. 'Not that I think anyone will ever understand him, but apparently it should help me find a way to beat him. Oh, and he said we are free to use the Room of Requirement for whatever we please as long as it stays between just us. He thinks some extra practices together will do us all some good.'

'We just need a time we're all free then,' smirked Ginny and everyone smiled in excitement with the exception of Cassy, who had already become detached and consumed by heavy thoughts.

Listening to the story of Voldemort's mother merely reminded her of Malfoy. The situation was completely different, the circumstances could not be farther apart, but there was something in the dreadful tone of the tale that brought her mind back around to the murky shadows of the Slytherin common room. Love, that was the theme of the incident and Cassy loathed to admit it, but she really did care for her cousin and until a point where he was truly beyond her reach she was unwilling to let go of it. Every word she would speak in his presence would need to be carefully calculated. She needed to corner him with her best-planned speech and find the weaknesses in Voldemort's plans that would stir panic and regret within him and force him to reconsider his position. It was difficult to plan for Lucius and Narcissa had not been out of favour with the Dark Lord to her knowledge. Malfoy had not seen the worst she knew he could do. She hated the way her mind constantly brought them back into her conscious thoughts. Again and again, they were always there.

She did not have much time to deliberate any new ideas because as the next week began and classes continued, she remained buried under mounds of new work materials and when not in class, she found she had other duties to attend to anyway.

Malfoy was in her Transfiguration class, openly scolded for not handing in even a scrap of his homework, and he attended Potions with a face of pure loathing. His potion bubbled over twice whilst his gaze remained stern and distant. He failed to turn in any work for Charms either. He wrote during the lesson, which was more than either of the others. Slowly, thoughtfully, and somewhat fractured, Malfoy made notes on his parchment, but his movements did not coincide with explanations Professor Flitwick gave. It was impossible to read the direction of the quill to guess what he was writing; they only way she would know would be to steal it and within a second of that thought having arrived in her mind, she had settled upon it and a strategy to achieve it.

When the students had begun to noisily shift in an attempt to pack away before the lesson officially ended, Cassy sat up in her seat as though she was going to drag the chair forward closer to the table after collecting her bag from beneath the desk. As she shuffled forward, she craned her head and spotted the parchment lying loose and unprotected. Malfoy rummaged through his bag in an effort to fit the textbook in.

Cassy removed her wand from the desk and stuffed it beneath the table. She swished her wand and sent Malfoy's papers scattering to the ground. Yet, one folded in on itself as it fell. It twisted an inch from the floor and soared beneath the tables and chairs and straight into her waiting hands beneath the desk. Quickly, she unfolded it. Immediately, Cassy was struck by how little writing was actually on the parchment. There were many thick lines of messily erased words, but what remained was very little. 'BB', 'VC', and ' ' and a few minor symbols were all that remained visible. A rectangle was etched out on the middle of the paper surrounded by question marks and inches of diameter beside it. Cassy frowned.

She looked up to see Malfoy still scrambling to collect his papers. She then turned to Harry and he looked down at the paper blankly. 'Malfoy was writing this all lesson.'

His eyes lit up.

'Don't feed into it, Cassy,' groaned Hermione. 'It's probably nothing.'

They ignored her and spent lunch debating what, if anything, it meant. There was clearly an object involved and Cassy was convinced that 'BB' had to mean Borgin and Burkes, the location of the partner of whatever he was trying to fix. Yet, Cassy could not recall anything that fit into those dimensions. There were many towering pieces of furniture, but none as imposing as the diagram suggested. Despite himself, Neville joined their discussion having been persuaded that if Cassy was asked to join Voldemort, then there was every chance that the son of a Death Eater would be as well and if not, he said to Hermione, Malfoy was certainly up to something and whenever he was it never ended well for them one way or another.

He and Cassy had left the castle and wandered down to the grounds after lunch. Neville had his Care of Magical Creature class and Cassy had a study period, but she ventured down to Hagrid's hut with him anyway. She smiled at Hagrid when he spotted her, his response was weak and muted. Each year he would give a booming shout of delight at the sight of her and yet he barely gave her more than a civil nod. Although she frowned at his retreating form, she tapped her hands on her knees and ducked closer to the ground.

'Fang, come here, Fang,' she called and the slobbering dog wasted no time before barrelling to her with uncoordinated, bandy legs. Still, Hagrid barely gave her another glance.

Neville bid goodbye and joined a small gaggle of students who were brave enough to return to Hagrid's class for another year. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were amongst the few and both turned and waved to her.

As the lesson progressed, Cassy circled the grounds with Fang. He stopped and sniffed often and did his best to catch several birds in the long grass. The air was crisp and the sky was clear. A slight frost had settled on the leaves and stones overnight, but there was still the promise of a mild winter ahead. She was not the only one exploring the grounds and she was actually hard-pressed to remember a day so early in the year where students willingly left the castle when it was not either extremely sunny or knee-deep in snow. There was a buzz in the air, a sort of atmosphere that could not be ignored. Everyone was keeping their eyes open and their hearts ablaze; Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain, it was said. The contrast to what must have been fretful, isolated summers for many had formed deep needs to be lively when lively was allowed.

That also meant there were more people to stare at Cassy and the giant boarhound as they passed, but she ignored that.

When her watch indicated the end of the period, she doubled back around on the grounds and wandered back to Hagrid's hut. There were several bodies ascending the crooked stone steps back towards the castle, but Neville was not amongst them. When Cassy drew closer, she spotted him clearing away stacks of sticks with thick, long gloves on his hands. Some distance away, Hagrid was sealing little wooden crates.

Neville turned and grimaced at her.

'Enjoying yourself?' she asked, eyebrow raised.

'We've lost a snake,' he replied grimly. 'Hagrid brought in a bunch he "borrowed" from a man he knows and now one's missing. They're really poisonous.'

Cassy slowly blinked. That was a fairly ordinary story. She was not even surprised.

'I think Hagrid needs to stop making friends with strange men in the pub,' she said.

'Unfortunately, I think Hagrid is one of those strange men,' he sighed.

Cassy chuckled.

'Oh, I was wondering if yeh were goin' ter bring back my dog,' came a deep voice from across the paddock.

Cassy and Neville quickly sobered, though Hagrid's bad mood did not seem to have worsened. Quickly, Cassy plastered a charming smile across her face.

'How have you been, Hagrid? I apologise for not visiting sooner, my classes have been quite hectic settling in,' she said.

Hagrid grunted.

'Harry is planning to see you tomorrow,' she tried lightly.

'Don't bother,' he said gruffly. 'No one wants ter see me.'

'That's not true, Hagrid!' protested Neville immediately.

'I am here now, am I not?' said Cassy. She openly frowned at the half-giant as he continued to move aside the undergrowth in search of his missing snake. 'It is not that no one wants to see you, but rather we have been very busy with our NEWT classes.'

'Oh yeah, the classes you all picked over mine,' he snapped.

'I was down for your class, Hagrid, but the limit is seven and as interesting as your class is I must think of what will help achieve my goals,' she said sternly. 'Hermione and I are taking seven and Harry is taking five, we just needed a bit of time, Hagrid. It is nothing personal.'

Hagrid winced and his shoulders sagged. There was an unusual glittering in his beady, black eyes. Cassy narrowed her eyes while Neville's widened in alarm. She prayed to Merlin that she was wrong, but then he let out a great sniff and the wiry threads of his beard began to tremble.

'I always knew it would be difficult for yeh to fit me in. I just thought yeh'd visit before now,' he said, his voice watery.

'Don't cry. Why don't we go and have a cup of tea, we've not seen you for months, so how about we catch up, okay?' said Neville. He patted Hagrid's arm sympathetically, though the words seemed to make him even more tearful .He stumbled around his hut for a moment before Neville insisted he sat; they knew his home well enough to make their own tea, he insisted, and Cassy fetched a large box of tissues and set them in front of him at the table. Hagrid blew his nose heavily. It appeared as though floodgates had been opened and he was no longer able to contain himself. As his eyes welled up again despite his insistent dabbing, Cassy leant forward in her seat and fixed him with a firm gaze.

'What is the matter? It is obviously more than missing our company for a week,' she said softly.

He heaved a deep shuddering breath and said, 'It's Aragog! He's dying and I can't seem to help.'

The news did not inspire grief. Instead, Cassy's eyes lit up brightly and she leant even further towards him. Slowly, she patted his knee and put on her best sympathetic expression, which said little for it. 'Is there anything we can do to help?'

'No, no,' he wept. 'His family have become frisky since he's been ill. It's probably only safe for me to go in.'

Cassy inwardly deflated. She really wanted to see an Acromantula. Forcefully putting that thought aside, she tried to conjure a pleasant, comforting thought despite never having been very good at it.

'Well, he's quite old now, isn't he?' said Neville as he put down the mugs on the table. He smiled reassuringly at Hagrid, who wasted no time in beginning his tale of how it was he had come across Aragog, though they both already knew it well. They stayed until their teas were drunk and Hagrid's eyes were dry. He managed a smile as he waved them from his hut and asserted that he expected to see them all soon with no excuses. They waved.

When the door shut, Cassy paused and looked at her watch.

'Are you going back to the castle?' asked Neville.

'No, I am supposed to be meeting Astoria by the lake, but I am still early,' she said.

'I said I'd go to the greenhouses and help Professor Sprout after class. She probably thinks I've forgotten,' he said fretfully.

Cassy waved a hand dismissively. 'Just explain why and she will forgive you.' Professor Sprout was exceptionally kind hearted.

Without further delay, Cassy ambled down to the lake for the second time that day. There were fewer students than before. Only pockets of people were scattered along the shoreline, the edges of the forest, and ascending the stone steps. The water was placid. The Giant Squid was nowhere to be seen and the excitement the new first years had had when attempting to feed it that morning must have worn the creature out. It probably did not get much exercise when there was no Fred and George to play catch with it anymore.

The low, recumbent limb of an old tree was empty. It lay bare for the first time all day, she suspected. Students had been climbing across it during her walk; it was some feet from the ground and a perfect place to hoist effortlessly into the tall branches above, but Cassy did not climb into the sparse array of mottled green and orange leaves and instead sat on the limb to stare idly across the lake. She disinterestedly gazed at the remaining clusters of students.

The memory of her intrusion into the Slytherin common room was still fresh in her mind. She had not had the opportunity to meet with Astoria since. While she seemed perfectly ordinary from a distance, Cassy knew better than to assume it was not merely a front. If the Slytherins were giving her grief then there would be no way Astoria would allow her emotions to show; there were those who fed off weakness and even Daphne would not be able to quell the disturbance. Yet, she was equally aware that not all Slytherins were aspiring Death Eaters. It was possible that she had found support, silent or vocal as they may be, but Cassy was not optimistic enough to assume a revolution had started in the pit of snakes.

Twice her eyes flicked over a distant group of boys and each time she did they seemed to be growing closer to her. By the fourth time – she had stared ahead and pretending to be oblivious for a time – one boy was clearly struggling against the others as two boys pushed a taller blond boy towards her.

The first thing she noted was that he was about Harry's height, with an angular face and dark, hazel-green eyes. He was not someone Cassy could honestly say she had seen before, or at least taken note of, but he rather handsome none-the-less, particularly with his uncertain grin. After quickly muttering to his friends, which Cassy suspected was some sort of curse, he stepped towards her and cleared his throat. He stared straight into her dark blue eyes and then away quickly before he looked back with a grin.

'You're Cassy Black, right?' he asked. 'I'm David Green.'

She did not know anyone with that surname. For a moment, she scrutinised him carefully, before she nodded politely. 'Pleasure to meet you.'

He smile inched wider and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

There was a long pause and Cassy did her best not to frown at him. 'Can I help you?'

'Er – yeah, I er – you're friends with Potter, right?'

Cassy sighed heavily and turned her head away. Immediately, Green pulled his hands from his pockets and held them in front of him in surrender.

'Sorry, sorry, but y'know, curiosity and everything,' he said quickly.

Frowning at the lake, she drawled, 'The papers are correct in some regards and naturally flawed in others. As to everything else, I cannot possible comment.' She turned back to his with a lazy gaze, but it did not seem to have deterred him at all. In fact, he had not taken his eyes from her face since they had begun speaking.

Behind him, his friends lingered. They were whispering amongst themselves and when one spotted her stare, they all quickly turned away as though the treeline was the single most interesting sight the grounds had to offer. Her eyes flicked back to Green.

'My friend Ernie talks about you sometimes. He says you're friends,' he said suddenly. He paused to await conformation, but Cassy continued to watch his expression closely in silence. 'He told everyone last year about how you defended Muggles in your class against Umbridge. That was pretty cool.'

Slowly, the familiar warmth on his face makes sense. There was a slight flush to his cheeks, so faint in the bright sunlight, but visible to her keen eyes all the same. His body was angled and his head was ever so inclined to her. Suddenly, Cassy had a feeling she knew why the older boys' friends had been shoving him towards her so teasingly.

'For someone who is obviously so proudly Muggleborn, you do your best to hide it,' she commented.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he laughed and dropped down beside her own the tree branch.

Ruffling his blond hair in a manner irritatingly similar to Harry, he asked, 'What do you mean?'

'You came over here to commend my defence of Muggleborns, your shoes are a Muggle brand, yet your clothing and hairstyle are not. I have not seen a single Muggle with hair swept like yours and yet a dozen Pureblooded boys have it. Furthermore, you wear a ring like I wear my signet ring, despite your lack of House,' she listed off plainly.

Any hope she had that it might make the boy wary enough to depart on more distant but still cordial terms, for she was still to be the Head of her House and that meant having a good image, vanished as his eyes crinkled in amazement and grinned at her.

'Go on then, analyse me,' he said eagerly.

'You want me to analyse you?' she repeated, eyebrows raised.

'Yeah, go for it.'

Cassy hummed and turned to look back up at the castle. 'I am afraid I can see my friend, so I must decline.'

She slipped from the branch and waved to the oncoming form of Astoria.

'Oh, right. Well, you're always welcome at the Hufflepuff table,' he said with that crooked, uncertain smile.

'It was nice to meet you,' she said and quickly strode to meet Astoria half-way up the stone steps.

Astoria raised an eyebrow over her shoulder and as soon as Cassy was within distance, said, 'An admirer? Dear me, Cassy, what will Harry think?'

'How can you tell that from such a distance?' asked Cassy incredulously.

'Because you are not sociable enough to talk to someone unless they approach you first,' she responded nonchalantly.

Cassy rolled her eyes.

'He was probably just trying to charm his way into finding out more about Harry,' said Cassy simply.

Astoria stared. 'You are really dense sometimes. You know that, right?'

Cassy turned to look over her shoulder at her with an expression caught between a sneer and a smile. 'Enough about me. How is my dear _Aster_ today?'

Astoria groaned loudly.

* * *

 **So, Cassy's been in the papers a lot lately, I thought it would only be natural for her to have some admirers of her own at last. She's not as dense as she was with Harry either.**

 **Unfortunately, this is just a bridging chapter that covers a few key things because I couldn't fit them in anywhere else.**

 **Also, someone asked how Cassy knew the Slytherin password and I thought I had mentioned it was from Astoria, but I probably cut it out during editing expecting to slot it somewhere else, but yeah, Astoria wouldn't have asked too many questions about that.**

 **Thank-you everyone who has reviewed, favourited, and followed this so far! It keeps me motivated and reminds me I have to update when I see the notifications.**

 **Thanks!**


	10. Popular support

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter X: Popular support**

The following Saturday brought clear skies and a crispness that had everyone dressed in jumpers with scarves and gloves ready at their side during the late breakfast. The only exception was Harry, who adorned a red and gold jersey with a pair of goggles slung around his neck. Resting at his side was his Firebolt, clipped and polished, ready for the arduous day ahead.

'Nearly fifty people have signed up,' he moaned, reading over the try-out list he had pinned to the common room notice board on Monday. 'I don't get it.'

Hermione scoffed loudly. 'You've never been more fanciable, have you?'

Cassy raised an eyebrow and Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. Further down the table, Ron turned. He was also dressed in his Quidditch robes, although Harry had already pulled him aside to say there were no promises when building his new team.

'Come on, now. You're the Chosen One; you stuck to your beliefs last year despite Umbridge and the Ministry; you confronted Voldemort for a fifth time in your life and it helps that you've grown almost a foot over summer,' Hermione reeled off as she mopped up the remainder of her breakfast with a slice of toast.

The height increase was certainly Cassy's favourite development.

'I'm tall,' came a mumble down the table.

Cassy glanced to see Ron scowling down at his own breakfast. She raised an eyebrow again.

'You must have noticed,' said Hermione.

'I noticed people have been staring, but I just thought…' he trailed off and Hermione sighed.

Ron cleared his throat noisily. 'Not liking the competition, Cassy?'

She turned at his teasing words and fixed a fake stiff smile on her face which had his teasing smirk drop from his lips within the second. Inwardly laughing already, she said, 'Careful now, Ronald, it almost sounds as though you are insinuating Harry is only with me because I was the only available option.'

The colour dropped from his face and he stuttered. Her smile grew more severe and Harry laughed.

'Cassy, that's cruel. Stop joking about or else I'll blame you if he doesn't do well in the trials.' His pointed stare was ruined by his playful grin.

Cassy smirked and said, 'I apologise, Ron. Honestly, though, I thought you might be sick just then.'

'Honestly yourself, woman! I thought you were about to skin me,' he huffed with a smile. 'Don't fancy using that look on Percy, do you? He's still not come home and I reckon that could make him come crawling back.'

Neville did not laugh at the threat like Cassy and Harry did. Instead, he frowned. 'He's still not come home, even though the Ministry admitted they were wrong?'

'No,' said Ron, scowling. The smile shattered instantly. 'He's probably too proud, the idiot. He doesn't realise that if he just came home then Mum and Dad would welcome him without a thought.'

Hermione pursed her lips as the screeching of the owls rang out overhead. They swooped in through the high open windows, carrying the huge array of parcels and papers they always brought with them. A barn owl settled in front of them with a parcel addressed to Harry. His new potion book had finally arrived, but his face spoke volumes about his reluctance to use it, in fact, his expression suggested he had forgotten he had even ordered it.

Several rolled up newspapers fell into the narrow alley between their meals. Tied with string and wound tightly, it was impossible to tell what story had made the cover, but Cassy unravelled it with the same bout of anticipation she had had for the last week. She unfurled it and tried not to smirk when she saw her own face coolly staring back at her, her head angled away as though something most interesting was occurring outside of the shot. Beside her photographed-self was her father, tall and patiently watching the same spectacle she had spotted on the platform at the time of the photograph too. Her interview had made mention on the front page:

 _There has been much speculation in the last few weeks over what Sirius Black intended to do with his new found freedom and the surely substantial benefits from the Ministry now he has been cleared of all charges against him. It seems that, keen to keep his freedom and bad-boy loner persona, he has passed his political right as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to his only child and daughter, Cassiopeia Black, aged sixteen. Spotted on September 1_ _st_ _on Platform 9 ¾ wearing a black band of personal oath to the family, Rita Skeeter has managed to get an exclusive and personal interview with the soon to be Lady Black about this huge responsibility she will accept on her young shoulders in just two months' time on her seventeenth birthday._

Page four revealed even more of the interview. Skeeter had, thankfully, painted Cassy to be some sort of martyr in the making, a very favourable character reference shone through in her quick-quill words and Cassy read on with the complete expectancy that a hidden slight would soon be revealed. Instead, she found a thoroughly considered discussion on Cassy's "fierce" equality stance on the children of Death Eaters and non-Death Eaters. She had stressed the need to consider both equally, not to consider one more likely than the other and gave Pettigrew as an example of the unsuspecting villain, which Skeeter had adored. She had done what Cassy had asked and had actually written what Cassy had said. For once, she had taken her completely seriously.

She glanced up.

'Cassy,' breathed Hermione. 'What is this?'

'I have some things I needed to be said and Skeeter made herself available to me,' she said simply.

'Skeeter,' repeated Harry and pulled Cassy's paper aside to see. He had stopped his subscription to the Daily Prophet on the basis that he was tired of seeing his face printed every day, often with photographs taken at the school that must have been sold on by students. He stared down, mouth open in horror. 'You gave an interview to Skeeter?'

'You have before, remember,' she said as she scanned down the page.

 _Bold and fearless, the young woman detailed her plans to take the Ministry by storm in the coming months. Ambitiously, she states she intends to force transparency of the government in the new war. She urges people to take responsibility for themselves and their families, stating 'fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. If you are afraid now, you will only be more so when the real battle begins'. Perhaps fuelled by youthful courage and idealism, Black does not see the perspective of those who are desperate to protect their families. Those who remember the war will know of the terror shaking their bones at every sound and the pain of listening to the growing fatalities each day, yet everyone must remember that Britain was saved that day by a boy of just eighteen-months old. This Chosen One is older now and perhaps it is time for the younger generation to have their voice in this war if we are to follow Harry Potter into battle against You-Know-Who._

'Yes,' he exclaimed, 'but it wasn't my idea.'

Cassy ignored him. Harry could not be cross with her for her outing her allegiance to him publicly, nor for her branding herself as a person at the forefront of the upcoming war both physically and politically. After all, he had done both himself when he had run his version of events the year before through exactly the same woman. It was not as though she had done it to brag either. In fact, it was more of an easy medium to make herself of use quicker than she otherwise could have ever managed. The _Daily Prophet_ was the most popular, most read newspaper in wizarding Britain, the amount of people who would see the article would be vast and even if they did not read it wholly they would know that Cassy had acquired the title of the next Head of House; it meant important people would be aware of her. She was in the process of edging herself onto the public platform and making herself and her power known. More than that, though, it opened an avenue for discussion. She was officially a rising public figure now, she had firmly established her intent through her small quips and subtle suggestions throughout the interview that made her aim obvious – she wanted to criticise the Ministry of Magic and she wanted to make people aware of the war in a way they had failed for a whole year to do so. All she had to do was wait for two more months and she could officially begin a long onslaught of carefully crafted insults whilst simultaneously promoting action in the war. It would be nearly impossible to get the traction on such actions if she did not promote herself early and publicly. She told them exactly that.

Harry did not even appear remotely surprised. He gazed at her from the corner of his eye, nodding thoughtfully and set his jaw in a firm, determined manner before a smirk pulled at his lips.

Hermione reluctantly nodded. 'How are you planning on doing that and your NEWTs?' she asked.

Cassy cast her a long, sideways stare. She intended to make her foothold in the world at age seventeen and Hermione's concern was whether or not Cassy could maintain her outstanding grades, but yes, she mentally answered, she certainly could.

'If I want to be even remotely successful in life I must be politically and socially commanding and be intellectually greater than those around me,' she replied simply.

'That's a little more than "remotely" successful,' muttered Neville, a single eyebrow was raised, but he could not help but look amused at the simplicity she spoke of. She met it with a smile.

By the time they vacated the Great Hall, many pairs of curious and sometimes furious eyes turned to watch the dark-haired teen leave. No words were exchanged, no one dared approach her, but it was easy to tell without looking or listening too hard that a great deal of people had read the article.

There was a reprieve of attention when they entered the grounds of the Quidditch stadium. Cassy gave Harry a quick kiss when they parted ways. Harry and Ron continued inside towards the field and Cassy, Neville, and Hermione turned up towards the wooden staircases to the stands. Strangely enough, the benches were not empty as normal. When they had been previously to watch the try-outs, though Harry's position had never been disputed, or practises there were only very few bodies to accompany their watch. This time, however, at least three dozen people had already claimed seats around the pitch.

Among the scattered groups a single hand raised. A mass of scraggly, dirty-blonde hair fluttered in the light autumn wind beneath a brightly knitted hat. Luna waved and had it not been for the strange, mismatched clothing it would have been difficult to discern it was her at all. Despite the mild weather, she was bundled in thick knitwear and a long scarf wrapped twice around her neck and still trailed along her lap and into the floor below. No one was sat anywhere near her. The vicinity was entirely empty.

'Good morning, Luna,' greeted Neville brightly. He bounded to her side with more enthusiasm than he would care to admit. 'Nice scarf, but it's not _that_ cold.'

'When I woke up this morning, I looked out of Ravenclaw Tower and saw a cloud shaped like a merperson with a trident. Normally a cloud like a merperson would be a good sign, because they're excellent singers, you know, and so it would be a good day for celebration, but tridents mean a chill is coming,' she explained with a smile.

Cassy did not even both to question how Luna worked that out and nor did she bother to look to the sky as Neville did to try and spot the supposed cloud.

'Most people get caught unaware because they fail to take notice of the clouds. Daddy saw one shaped like a lion last year, that's when he knew Rufus Scrimgeour would become the next Minister of Magic,' continued Luna.

Hermione sighed heavily beside Cassy.

On the pitch, the sheer volume of applicants became apparent. It appeared as though not only those who had signed up for practise had appeared for a quick count revealed at there would be an excess of seventy people and several friends amongst the ranks. At the very front and facing the group was Harry. In the first row was the visible head of Ron, who stood tall among the rest, and a smaller, blond boy that must have been Seamus stood beside him. Then there was Dean, who was even more visible than Ron with his even greater height, and although she could not be seen it was very likely Ginny was on his other side. A few more familiar faces were in the crowd such as Katie Bell; the Creevey brothers, who were practically vibrating in excitement; unfortunately even McLaggen had appeared to try his hand at the sport.

It was difficult to tell from such a distance, but Cassy was not convinced everyone who was on the pitch was even a Gryffindor. Nearly the whole house would have needed to have signed up for there to be that many hopefuls and she knew for a fact that there were many of them in the stands already.

Within minutes, Harry seemed to have come to the same conclusion Cassy had and a large group of giggling students were sent from the pitch without so much as mounting their brooms. They joined the stands as the remaining people were split into groups of ten and Harry with a projected voice ordered them to fly a lap around the pitch. Everyone but the first group piled into the stands to eagerly await their call, which unfortunately meant the small area of peace that Luna had carved with her strange appearance was invaded by hopefuls unwilling to travel too far from a staircase.

'Group four!' said Ginny as she threw herself down on Neville's right. 'You'd think I'd be in group one with how close I was.'

'I think he's grouped all the really young kids together,' said Dean as he took a seat beside his girlfriend. 'At least two of them are first years hoping no one will notice.'

Seamus sat beside him and Ron avoided the couple by settling beside Hermione. High-pitched giggles broke out behind them as a group of noisy girls filed in a few rows farther back. Ginny cast them a scathing frown over her shoulder.

'I don't know why they're bothering to try out. They don't even like Quidditch,' she said. 'All Romilda and Helena do is talk about Harry.'

Cassy kept her eyes fixed ahead as the first group set off. Only one managed to fly around the stadium; everyone else dropped to the floor at various stages with pathetic dives and rolls which were hardly even interesting because of how awfully slow they were travelling. Group two were soon called down and Dean and Seamus both stood.

When they set off, Vane sighed loudly. 'He's just so handsome, isn't he? Not to mention humble. The people he hangs out with, well, he could do so much better than them. I don't have his patience either. I would have just told all of those kids to get off the pitch the moment I saw them.'

If Cassy were to be honest with herself, she did not have the instinctual issue most girls had with someone else being interested in her boyfriend. Harry was Harry, of course she saw the appeal in that, but she was also confident that he had no interest in anyone but her. He was a walking mess around Cho Chang, unable to formulate proper sentences or avoid flushing a deep red in her presence. He had become very jealous around Stephen because of his mere friendship with Cassy the year before and she remained his first contact if anything was needed or had gone wrong; they were all little telling signs she had reflected upon and learnt since their relationship began eight months prior. He visibly had no interest in anyone else, so Cassy did not feel remotely insecure by the mutterings of the younger Gryffindor behind her. Furthermore, if he did leave her for someone, it would not be Romilda Vane. Harry hated high maintenance people and often commented on how independent Cassy was, though that alternated between praise and annoyance.

She watched the other girl's back as she left the stands.

When on the pitch, the large group of girls were huddled so close together that if they were to even attempt to mount their brooms there was a very possible cause for injury.

'Right,' said Harry. 'Thank-you for trying out, everyone.'

With those simple words, the group of girls fell into hysterical laughter.

Dean and Seamus had just managed to climb the staircase when Harry dismissed the group without even allowing them to attempt a lap.

'Group four!' shouted Harry.

Ginny and Ron stood. Ginny smirked, her jaw set in determination. Rising much slower than his sister, Ron stumbled past. Their calls of 'good luck' seemed to fall on deaf ears, a pallor tone had taken over his skin, a slight sheen of sweat glistened in the sun on his forehead. It hardly seemed possible that he could look even sicklier than he had before his matches last year, but somehow he managed it. Perhaps it was the pressure of having a friend as his captain had made the reality of not succeeding all the worse, or perhaps it was the sheer volume of people who had turned out to hear his possible failure this time that made his anxiety peak. Whatever it was, it blinded him to the loathed sight of Ginny and Dean's good luck kiss.

'You would think he would have learnt last year that he's not actually bad at the sport,' muttered Cassy.

'He'll be fine,' said Hermione. 'It's just flying around the pitch.'

'I could outfly him,' came a voice. Further down the row, the tall figure of McLaggen was feet from them with a seasoned smirk on his face. Hermione sighed heavily and Cassy cast him a disinterested glance before she turned her eyes back to her friends' performances down on the pitch. Everyone else turned in resentment. They had not met the delight that was Cormac McLaggen.

'The only reason I wasn't part of the team last year was because I ate a pound of Doxy eggs the night before the tryouts. It was part of a dare and what can I say? I'm not the type to back down from a challenge,' he rambled confidently.

'Idiot,' hissed Hermione under her breath.

McLaggen looked around as though checking who was listening to him. Accidentally, Hermione met his eyes with a glare and he honed in the slightest shred of attention she had granted him and shuffled up the bench towards them.

'Granger, right?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Hermione politely, if undeniably stiffly.

'You're, er – you're friends with that Weasley girl?' he said and eyed Ginny speeding around the pitch effortlessly at the front of the group. 'She's a fair flier, I'll give her that. Professor Slughorn seems to think she's funny.'

Hermione stared and waited for him to continue with what little enthusiasm she could muster for the conversation. He paused to watch the group complete their second lap.

'I suppose he collects who he likes, though, I just thought being good at a curse is a bit of a weird reason, that's all,' he said. 'She's a bit small for a Chaser, too small, really. If a Bludger hit her she would probably go flying.'

'You've clearly never seen Ginny play as a Chaser,' said Neville.

Dean was openly glaring at McLaggen now.

'As long as she can handle it,' he said, shrugging. 'The team needs to be good this year, reckon Potter is up to it? Seems a bit lofty to be Captain. He's not very sociable, is he?'

Not to you, thought Cassy disinterestedly.

McLaggen was thankfully in the next group that were called for try-outs.

After everyone had flow and Harry had whittled the numbers down, he set them the task of completing challenges based on the role they were aiming for. This meant Chaser and Keeper tasks could be conducted at the same time in small groups. Ron hovered in front of the three rings at the end closest to Cassy and her friends, while McLaggen was seated at the opposite end. Ginny and another girl were sent to fly to each end and try to score while Ron and McLaggen had to save them. It was a simple task, in theory, but after the last three rounds they had watched it seemed it did not turn out that way. When put against friends and faced with the prospect of having to live up to the standard they had each set themselves, the Gryffindors began to make foolish mistakes and often crumbled so visibly that even Cassy's uninterested stare caught and recognised their amateurish stumbles.

Ginny was ruthless, yet Ron was holding his own. It was only on the last ball she threw that he fumbled, but he neither let it drop or let it through. He had scored a perfect five saves. McLaggen was equal, though. Ginny grabbed another ball and swung down to the other end of the pitch. She sped along as he readied himself for the final throw, then, quite suddenly and with no real visible cause, he swung away from the middle hoop. Seizing the opportunity, Ginny hurled the Quaffle through the farthest hoop. As the whistle cried out, McLaggen was left hanging lifelessly in the air, his face the picture of confusion.

Slowly, Cassy eyed Hermione. She drawled, 'You know, wordless spells do not go amiss.'

'What do you mean?' asked Hermione briskly. She applauded loudly as Harry called everyone forward to finally pick his team.

Cassy simply hummed. The murmur had been faint, but the jerk of McLaggen's broom was too quick, too clumsy for such an experienced flier. Hermione had cursed him. She was ninety-seven percent sure of it. Hermione certainly did fancy Ron; she was even willing to cheat for him.

In the end, Harry decided on Ginny, Katie Bell, and Demelza Robins as his Chasers. The two Beaters were unknown faces to Cassy and the Keeper was finally decided to be Ron. Several rows away, Lavender shrieked. McLaggen sneered and stomped closer to Harry, although not nearly as intimidating as he might have once been as he and Harry were not almost of equal heights. Cassy did not wait to find out if a fight would break out between them and instead made her way to the pitch with Neville, Hermione, and Luna. Ginny grinned when she saw them and Ron exhaled heavily.

'Piece of cake,' he said. 'Did you see McLaggen miss that last save? Bad luck.'

Cassy again turned with a subtly pointed stare at Hermione, who refused to meet her eyes.

When Harry had managed to calm McLaggen down, or at least persuade him to stop pressing himself against him threateningly, everyone trudged back up to the castle. An air of delight surrounded Harry as he silently considered his new team.

'I can't explain how happy I am that McLaggen missed the last Quaffle,' he muttered to Cassy. 'There was a moment I thought I'd have to have him on the team and he's such an arse – ' His words fell short at the sight of their Head of House sweeping down the steps towards them. She stopped above them, her critical eyes set firmly on Cassy. Their gaze was different than last time. Last time Professor McGonagall's eyes had been filled with a quiet exasperation and mild loathing of her visitor, but this time they were severe, hawk-like in their unwavering singular interest.

'Miss Black, come with me, please,' she said. 'You have another visitor.'

Cassy raised an eyebrow, but Professor McGonagall did not respond beyond turning her back to her swiftly and marched back up the steps again.

'Who is it?' asked Neville, warily.

Cassy shook her head uncertainly and waved a silent, somewhat distracted good-bye to her friends. She followed behind her Head of House without a word. She dared not speak like she had upon her last collection and instead concentrated on where they were heading. It was not to Professor McGonagall's office this time either, meaning whoever it was, was important enough to be situated in the large, circular office of the Headmaster.

Frowning, Cassy considered who it could possibly be. The article had been published for approximately four hours at Hogwarts, most likely five for the London area given the distance, but that was not enough time to make any real impact and persuade anyone they had to urgently meet with her to discuss what they read. She expected a few letters over the next week of people criticising her and others wishing her the best of luck and informal celebrations, but she had not anticipated someone actually coming to Hogwarts to talk.

Each step of the spiral staircase brought a new potential name to the list. It was not until the door opened and she caught sight of her visitor that she realised she had overlooked the most likely visitor; the most vocal supporter and critic she would ever have.

'What the hell do you think you're playing at?' thundered Sirius.

Her father halted his rapid pacing the moment their eyes met. He turned, a deep, ferocious scowl upon his face to roar at her with no restraint.

'Do you realise what you have done?' he demanded loudly.

'Yes,' she barked flatly, her eyes half-lidded. 'I am not totally mentally deficient.'

'I wouldn't know it!' he snapped.

Cassy narrowed her eyes and inwardly debated the merits of simply walking away from the situation. On one hand, it would delay the argument, but on the other he would most likely follow her through the school and scream at her regardless. She stepped inside, if simply to prevent his heated words echoing all through the corridor below. Her head was held high and her hands looped in front of her in a well-practiced, dignified manner, much in contrast to his clenched fists and dancing feet. She regarded him coolly.

'I have opened a dialogue between myself and the press. I have moved attention away from Harry and towards a productive thought process on methods that might actually benefit the war effort. I have found a way to help despite being in school,' she announced.

Behind Sirius sat Professor Dumbledore. He did not move or even blink as he watched the pair closely from his desk.

'You are sixteen,' hissed Sirius. 'You have drawn unnecessary attention to yourself. You publically condemned Voldemort in the National newspaper.'

'I have said what others are too afraid to say, I will make the Ministry accountable,' she countered forcefully. Her tone was not angry. It was not aggressive or scalding, but it was sharp. It held a weight to it that said she could not be moved on the matter, no matter what words he threw at her.

'Give it back,' he said suddenly. All movement ceased and he held his hand out expectantly. 'The ring. Give it back, now.'

'No.'

'I can take it back anytime. You clearly are not ready for it,' he said, calmer than ever.

'I refuse.'

'You cannot refuse, you are not the Head of House yet. As the current acting Head, I can demand it back anytime I see fit.'

'It will take weeks to pass the paperwork again. Two months, at least, and even longer if I dispute it, but by which time it will be my seventeenth birthday and the ceremony will be complete.'

Silence reigned. Heavily, Sirius dropped into the seat behind him. His face was sluggishly obscured by his hands and for a moment nothing was said between any of the room's four occupants. Then, a chair materialised a few feet from Sirius'. Cassy looked to Professor Dumbledore, who indicated to the seat.

'You cannot say things like that anymore,' said Sirius seriously, his head still in his hands. 'He is in the open now, he will act. You need to keep your head down and stay beneath his gaze for as long as possible, Cassy.'

'I already caught his attention,' she said calmly. 'So much so he asked me to join him.'

Sirius jerked. Professor Dumbledore leant forward on his desk and an audible gasp left Professor McGonagall's lips.

'I refused, of course, back at the Ministry,' she continued. 'He said if I joined him he would forgive my misdoings up until then because of my heritage. He asked me twice and I declined twice.'

'He will not ask again,' said Professor Dumbledore gravely.

Sirius sighed heavily, as though all the breath had been drawn from his body. 'Why didn't you tell me that before?'

Cassy hesitated, trying to find the correct wording. 'I am already in a precarious position with Gryffindor, with the other students, and with the public. It was not something I wanted anyone to know because if it circulated it would ruin everything I had planned because no one refuses to join Voldemort, as the saying goes. Right after the battle, it was the last thing on my mind and quite frankly I was mortified he even dared to ask. So, I said nothing.'

There was no need for thorough investigations of any body language to know what each person in front of her felt. Sirius had paled, Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with thought, and Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed thinly as though very displeased.

'I knew I was putting myself in danger if I spoke to Skeeter from the moment I set eyes on her. It was not my intention to conduct an interview at all when I was given this ring, but the opportunity arose to do something the Order cannot do. I can speak out without the threat of attack for at least one year,' she said evenly. 'If you think without outing myself like this that I would not be asked for my opinion, or that I would not give it when I turned seventeen then you are incorrect, very much so. Whether I had the ring or not I would be doing exactly the same. I want to work with the Order to use what I have, please allow me this.'

She turned to Professor Dumbledore and for once did not turn to address anyone else. He held her gaze levelly for a long time.

'You are in school. The Order does not allow anyone below seventeen or not yet graduated to join,' he said eventually.

'Then I will give my opinion freely without the input of the Order,' she said, maintaining eye contact.

He continued to watch her, his fingers looped together and his chin upon them.

'If you will allow it, I can assist you on what to say in your upcoming interviews. I entrust from the message you gave this morning that there will be many to follow upon your birthday. The intelligence the Order of the Phoenix has gathered will be of use in directing your statements, however, I must stress that while an associate you will not be considered a full member.' He was careful with his words, his voice stern and it offered no leeway on the proposition. She either accepted it or returned to a non-associated entity of her own. 'This means no access to meetings or information outside of what it determined useful for your work. You are correct. It would be useful for us to have a pressure besides myself exerted on the Ministry.'

Cassy was the perfect pressure force and they all knew it. Not only was she to be the Head of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, she was the daughter of a man who was very famous amongst the faces of the resistance now. She was the bridge between Pure-Blood and Muggles in a way that promoted integration into the existing society whilst promoting freedom and rights of the other. She was only made richer by Alphard's death and the terrible exclusion by the Malfoy's upon her refusal to disassociate with the young man who was now prophesied to destroy Voldemort. She was the perfect spokesperson and they all knew it.

'That sounds agreeable, Headmaster,' she spoke cordially.

'I should have been a stricter parent,' groaned Sirius.

'If it is any consolation, I probably would not have listened to you anyway,' she said airily.

Professor Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. 'I suppose your family name is why Voldemort merely had you petrified by the Basilisk instead of killed?'

'Basilisk?' repeated Sirius.

Cassy narrowed her eyes. Professor Dumbledore did that on purpose.

'What does he mean you were petrified by a Basilisk?' demanded Sirius.

'Oh, you did not know?' said Professor Dumbledore innocently.

The mirth in his eyes only made Cassy narrow hers even more.

* * *

There were several reasons Cassy had not spoken to Sirius of her first two years of school. The primary most reason was that it had never arisen in conversation. He was somewhat aware of Quirrell having been Voldemort's vessel, but beyond that he was apparently very much unaware of what his daughter and Godson had been up to in their earlier years.

By the time she left, she was silently cursing Harry for not having been dragged into the lengthy explanation too. Sirius' frustration had not fully subsided with her newspaper scandal, so the anger further flared at the brief and milder version of events that were relayed in the office that afternoon. She made sure to glare at Professor Dumbledore whenever Sirius looked away, but he did not seem to take any notice of her and instead made a point of feeding the large, fiery phoenix treats for almost a full half-an-hour until she was excused.

The retelling of her meeting had made Harry laugh and under the heated glare of his girlfriend he smothered his chuckles. When she retold it once again at dinner to Ginny and Luna, the jovial atmosphere was somewhat lost in the thick of the crowd of staring, peering, invasive eyes of the student body.

Harry turned suddenly and forced her head down. For a moment, she growled before a loud splatter met her ears and half the Gryffindor table fell silent. Cake sprayed across the table. She sat up and turned, her face carefully reserved.

'Watch it, Lady Black,' someone shouted. She did not see who, but from the uneasy turning of heads, she narrowed her focus down to a red-haired Ravenclaw boy of a similar age to herself.

'Thank-you, Harry,' she murmured when she turned back around.

Her own House had expressed no concern over the article. Her actions were only met with praise, irritatingly so, almost, as they often wanted to stop her to talk. If she had not anticipated it and had not grown up surrounded by unwanted and forced social events she may well have drowned under all of the attention, but as it was, she thrived on it; it was the best possible outcome. Logically, she knew there would be those who disagreed with her within the castle walls. However, Gryffindor valued chivalry and bravery, so she expected no cake to be slung in her direction from her own House, and Hufflepuff were just and loyal, so at least criticisms would be delivered to her and not pressured on those around her as the sneering faces of the unhappy and often apparently amused Slytherin House were turning in their seats to do.

It was because of their heated stares and deep, furrowed brows that Cassy looked for the one Slytherin who would undoubtedly support her. There was no bright grin among the crowd of scornful faces. There was not even a smirk. The curly blonde hair that was nearly always visible because of how abnormally tall Astoria was compared to her peers was missing. With her eyes narrowed a fraction, Cassy began her search for Daphne and found her soon after sitting beside Zabini, her face slightly flushed and with a scowl more loathsome than any other. This time, Cassy glowered.

'Excuse me,' said Cassy as she stood.

'Are you alright?' asked Neville.

'Yes, I just need to check something,' she said briskly before she began a quick-paced trek back to the common room. There was a brief, passing thought that she should have remained seated, if just to save face against those who would criticise her. Her leaving so suddenly appeared as a weakness; it looked as though she was upset or afraid of the Ravenclaw. Then the thought was brushed from her mind. She had more important things to worry about than a repuation she could easily swipe back tomorrow by squashing any threats before they had a chance to blossom with a firm hand.

The Marauder's Map was beneath Harry's pillow as he often fell asleep gazing at the many corridors out of nothing but nosiness as Neville frequently said. She settled down onto Harry's bed and rifled through the map's many folds. After checking it thoroughly twice and having inspected each and every name in the Great Hall in case Astoria was at another table, Cassy was forced to accept she was not there. She was nowhere to be found above ground, which meant there was only one place she could be.

If she was not amongst the corridors or the common rooms, by the lake or in the fields, she was in the kitchen. With the map still drawn, she set off without delay. Astoria was not one to hide, she was too bold and too conceited for that, which she had even agreed upon when Cassy had lazily announced it once, so to vanish so completely put many thoughts churning through Cassy's already busy mind. Either something was wrong or Astoria had a boyfriend that Daphne did not like, both of which were very realistic possibilities and Cassy was not sure which one she found worse. As it was, her questions were answered in favour of the former being the most likely as Astoria's marker was finally located on the map in a corridor beneath the Great Hall.

Having jumped two steps at a time down the marble staircases, Cassy came face to face with her as she emerged from the corridor.

'Cassy!' she exclaimed.

Cassy did not smile at the rare opportunity to take Astoria off-guard. It seemed someone had already done precisely that when she critically inspected her friend's appearance. Her eyes were rimmed red. Not brightly as though she had recently been crying, but the faint patches of discolouration around her eyes and down her cheeks proposed old tears and the slight crumble on her dress, particularly the long creases in the grey material of the skirt no matter how easy to crease the floaty material was, suggested she had been sitting with her knees to her chest for some time.

'What are you doing down here?' asked Cassy carefully. She did not frown, fearing the expression would cause her to internalise her feelings.

'Just having some time alone,' said Astoria with an odd sort of half-smile, one caught somewhere between genuine and forced.

'This is because of me, isn't it?' said Cassy abruptly.

Astoria laughed.

'It is,' insisted Cassy. 'I know you and your sister argued over Muggleborns and this war. I know most of Slytherin heard about it, if they were not already there to witness it.'

Quickly, as though turned off a tap, the mirth died on her face and Astoria sobered quickly.

With a deep sigh, she admitted, 'The Slytherins have been giving me a rough time, I cannot deny it, but I could handle it before. I just ignored them, told them they were going to regret it and the like. Right now... right now is too much.' She shook her head. 'There are some… who are not pleased with you being the Head of the Black Family and they are vocal about it.'

It was a subtle way of letting Cassy know that her article had turned the attention onto Astoria as her only true supporter in Slytherin. Any criticisms they would have towards her would be channelled at Astoria, poking and prodding her belief that what she was supporting was really the right cause.

Cassy's fists flexed at her sides.

'Have you had dinner?' asked Cassy after a moment of thought.

'No,' acknowledged Astoria. 'I was going to spend the evening in the Room of Requirement, maybe get some when everyone's gone back to their common rooms. The kitchens are a little hectic right now.'

'Do you mind if I join you? I can always have Plum bring you some food. Perhaps get you some things from your room if you wanted,' offered Cassy.

Astoria slowly smiled and Cassy felt relieved that this one was at least genuine.

* * *

 **Ta-da!**

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	11. The cursed Bell

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XI: The cursed Bell.**

There was something to be said about having an elected leader, Cassy decided as she sat in a circle on the ground with her friends. At least with a decided leader everyone would comply and, at the very minimum, consider what they had to say equally. However, the new Dumbledore's Army meetings they were attempting to arrange were supposed to be more informal. Harry had not wanted to teach again and they were each adamant they had something to give, but it only seemed to cause disputes on where they should begin. In the end, after Cassy had wandered off to get herself a drink from the mysterious tea set that appeared, the original plan was covered in Luna's doodles and Ginny had thwarted Ron's aggression with a Bat-Bogey hex, Neville suggested they make a list of what they each thought they should focus on. One area from each of them and they could do equal lessons with a focus on one topic at a time.

Agreeable enough, they each wrote their suggestion down and explained it to the others. Cassy wanted to focus on an awareness of the surroundings. It was the greatest tool and hindrance they had during a fight because it changed the very nature of a battle. It could be used to their advantage and it was imperative to know if someone needed support or if another enemy was approaching, she explained. It was her use of spaces in the Ministry battle that kept her alive.

Harry raised the breadth of their spell knowledge. They knew how to stun, but using another magic such as transfiguration in battle was not second nature and an underutilised set of skills.

Healing was Neville's suggestion. No one argued. Though none of them had any interest in pursuing it as an art, no one was foolish enough to think they could go without.

Hermione suggested non-verbal spells, although they were already going to be covered in the syllabus that year for NEWTs. That did not mean any of them trusted the advancements in that class as enough to sustain their progress. They were notoriously difficult to master, but vital for the element of surprise in battle.

It was Ron who suggested they work on group combat. He and Ginny collided in the Department of Mysteries, they were unable to coordinate and just got in each other's way, hindering the fight.

Ginny requested they need to improve their footwork and mobility to dodge and dive and then recover quickly enough to respond, or even better, she suggested, they learnt to dive and roll and attack all at the same time with accuracy.

Finally, Luna paused when it came to her turn. Thoughtfully and slowly, she said, 'I want to learn more about the Dark Arts themselves.'

There was a moment of silence and she turned to see Cassy nodding with agreement.

'I can help with that one. If I may, I would say the knowledge of the Dark Arts lies best with me,' she said.

'You've not stopped your reading then,' stated Neville. His tone was not accusing, simply said as a statement neither annoyed nor surprised.

'I asked Moody over the summer to help me find materials and I have a lot of books in my trunk dedicated to them, all approved by him,' she said conversationally. No one knew of the incident between her and Shandy the previous year apart from Harry and no one asked why she had bothered to seek guidance. If anything, it just made her study appear even more serious than it already had in her quiet obsession. Nothing more was said about it when Harry nodded and collected the paper to scan over.

'If we're all in agreement with these, all we need to do is find suitable dates for everyone to meet and I have a feeling that's going to be harder than it sounds,' he said.

* * *

Bundled in coats and thick woollen scarves, students trod the beaten track down towards Hogsmeade. Even from a distance, the smoke from the well-lit fires visibly bloomed from the old chimney stacks and mingled with the grey, clouded sky as the second week of October brought forth the start of the winter weather. The atmosphere for the student body was generally very excitable, particularly if the sprinting third-years were anything to measure by, but Cassy found herself stood between a sulking Harry and an irritable Hermione. She was well-versed in ignoring negative emotions and kept her attention trained on the little things that surrounded them, such as the changing leaves and the frosted lamp posts, or the fact that Luna had her arm interlinked with Neville's a few steps ahead.

The afternoon should have been a very good one. The first trip to Hogsmeade each year was something of a delight; there were sweets to be brought and new pop-up street shops that emerged over the summer to be explored before they inevitably moved their trade along again. Yet, it was difficult when neither Harry nor Hermione were likely to relent. Their argument had been over what all their disagreements had been about lately – the Half-Blood Prince.

While Cassy respected his intellect and very much disliked him at the same time, Hermione loathed him. There was not an ounce of dignity to be had in using his notes, she maintained all through the past weeks and it had not deterred Harry's use of the unusual book at all. He remained in Professor Slughorn's good graces, though Cassy watched him with narrowed eyes in each and every lesson and began to give him a challenge for the title once again with a great deal of extra study of her own copy of the textbook. Harry did not care about that, though, he was just pleased by the ease of the tasks as a result of the extra notes and once Cassy regained her mantle as the best – it was not an easy feat, for Harry's instructions were nearly always perfect - she brightened outside of class with regards to the mysterious figure. While she still lost nearly as much as she won, it turned into a competition of sorts, albeit one Harry really did not want.

Hermione, however, was still staunchly against the book. She was even more in opposition of it when Harry and Ron had met them at breakfast laughing about the new spell Harry had discovered in the pages and used in the boys' dormitory. It had only strung Ron up by the ankle and although Cassy saw the funny side and met the story with an interested smile, Hermione considered it foolish. The spell could have done anything at all and Harry had willingly tested it in an enclosed space, it was madness, she had snapped. Cassy was inclined to agree with that, but she let the incident go without any reprimands besides a pointed look.

That left her as the mid-ground in their silent argument and made the walk down to Hogsmeade very much unenjoyable, or at least, it would have been if Cassy had not been intensely watching Neville and Luna interact. Ginny was not present to roll her eyes and force the two to speak. She was spending the day with Dean and Ron had taken the opportunity to meet with Seamus, who he had incidentally been neglecting in his effort to ignore the blooming relationship between his sister and best-friend.

Everything changed once they stepped foot onto the high street. Tense still, it was for a different reason. The street was not like they had been the year before. The trips had been few and far between in the last year, but the image of a lively village with colourful street vendors flogging their wares and the bright faces of the residents waiting for the surge was embedded into their minds as one of the delights of the trip. Yet, there were no street vendors. The canopies were unopened and the stalls were bare. Several of the shops had been boarded up and announced their closure with a single signed across the covered windows. Even Zonko's was gone although it had been one of the most successful shops in the village.

Many groups peered around at the shut shops with both disheartened eyes and fearful hearts. They loitered in the street and Cassy took the opportunity to quietly direct her friends to the Three Broomsticks while there was still a chance it was not crammed with bodies seeking warmth from the sudden turn of cold weather. It was as busy as it normally was with people elbowing their way to the front of the bar, lit fires lining the walls and the low ceiling giving the room a warm, cosy feeling despite the noise. The five found a table in the centre of the room not far from the stairs.

'The winter sprites have been active this year,' said Luna lightly as they sat. 'They must be working extra hard because of the summer heat we had.'

'Winter sprites?' asked Neville.

'Oh, yes. They bring the frost, don't you know?'

'I'm going to get some drinks,' said Harry before Hermione could volunteer and excuse herself. Cassy went with him as an extra pair of hands as Hermione sunk low into her seat in defeat. They stood beside each other in silence for a while, waiting to be served.

'Hermione is only angry because she was worried,' said Cassy after a moment.

Harry scoffed, 'It was a harmless spell. You'd think she thought the Prince is a murderer with the way she talks about him.'

'You do not speak Latin, it's useful when learning new spells,' said Cassy, purposefully keeping her tone neutral and conversational. 'She was just afraid the spell could have been something more sinister and Ron could have been seriously injured.'

'I wasn't aiming for him,' said Harry weakly. 'Anyway, why do you keep pointing out how worried she is for Ron? The two of them squabble more than anything else, although… it's a bit weird she'd cheat to get Ron on the team.'

Cassy smirked.

'They've been kind of weird around each other lately,' he said slowly.

Cassy smirked wider in weight of the realisation that was sure to hit. It never had a chance to, however, for Madam Rosmerta chose that moment to appear before them with a wide smile and expectant eyes.

'What will you have, my dears?' she said, her grin stretching ever so slightly as she met Harry's vibrant eyes.

'Five Butterbeers, please,' he ordered and she began to rummage for clean glasses beneath the bar. Harry gazed around the room for a moment. 'Y'know, I thought it would be busier than this.'

'Oh, no,' said Madam Rosmerta, resurfacing with her arms full of glasses. 'Everyone's terrified, aren't they? I suppose we'll have fewer students coming through this year because their parents'll be too afraid to give them permission to come in case there's an attack. I don't blame them, of course. I'd be the same.'

Harry frowned lightly. 'You think he'd attack here? Where it's so close to Hogwarts?'

'But it's not Hogwarts, is it?' she said wisely. 'That'll be sixteen Sickles and twenty-five Knuts, please.'

When Harry had paid, he and Cassy carried the drinks back over to the table. Neville and Luna were immersed in a deep conversation, most likely about something completely unrealistic and whimsical if the dire expression on Hermione's face was telling. Whatever it was, they quietened down and a conversation was struck about where they were going to go now half of the shops were shut. For the most part, Harry was silent. He stared at his Butterbeer absently, deep in thought that Cassy had no doubt related to what Madam Rosmerta had said. It was entirely possible they would be attacked whilst in Hogsmeade. It was unlikely, given the closeness to Professor Dumbledore, but it was clear from the landlady's nonchalant response that the residence had long accepted the chance. Harry, apparently, had not.

'But would anyone really be stupid enough to attack here?' he said suddenly. 'I mean, aren't they patrolling about nearby?'

'Doesn't mean someone won't try. I mean, if they didn't think it was a possibility, why would anyone be patrolling at all?' said Hermione.

Cassy hummed in response. She wondered if Tonks was on patrol today. It would be nice to see how she was fairing.

'Hello!' called a cheerful voice.

Everyone turned to see Ginny and Dean grinning in the doorway. Ginny's face was flushed from the cold and Dean's arm was wrapped around her waist. They all waved back as the pair stepped up to the bar.

'Good job Ron's not here,' said Neville. He nodded over Cassy's shoulder, but she did not need to turn around to know what was happening. 'They can't stop for five minutes, can they?'

Cassy idly wondered if the pair ever had a conversation anymore or if they were permanently locked together at their lips. The amount of times in the little over a month since term began that Cassy had personally walked into a room and caught the two kissing was almost more than she cared to count – she had counted, of course, and it was thirty-two times, almost once a day, though sometimes several. In the end, she had decided it was most likely Ginny's way of annoying Ron, seeing as his distaste for their relationship had not really lessened any.

They were intertwined in a booth when Cassy and the others decided to leave The Three Broomsticks and ventured out into blustery winds. If possible, the street was even emptier than before. While the pub had filled with disappointed bodies who had raced to Zonko's to avoid the inevitable rush, the street had become sparse and bare, even more so as many of the colourful advertisements had been stripped from the windows, each shop now inconspicuous and barely different from the last.

Cassy and Harry walked with her arm looped around his.

A distant store door opened and the rounded form of Professor Slughorn emerged clad in a thick coat and a large sweet-filled bag in his hands from Honeydukes.

'Oh, no,' hissed Harry.

He had been avoiding Professor Slughorn. In the last month, there had been several dinners and although Harry had been invited to all of them he had yet to attend a single one. There was always an excuse, but lately it had been that Quidditch practice was mysteriously always on the same night as the dinner, a fact that only arose because he would wait for the invitation before putting up the bulletin on the common room notice board. It was not through lack of trying to get him to attend, Professor Slughorn had even gone as far as to ask Professor McGonagall of the training schedule for the term, but she had denied all responsibility for it.

Harry suddenly veered towards the side of the street and Cassy sunk her heels down firmly against the cobbled stone.

'What are you doing?' he demanded in a loud whisper as she clutched his arm tightly. She merely smirked in response and his eyes narrowed. He began to struggle urgently.

'Ah, Harry, my boy!' came a joyful shout.

Cassy laughed lowly and Harry turned to give her a filthy glare before he gave Professor Slughorn a wonky, half-hearted smile. Cassy quickly dropped his arm, smug.

'Sir,' he greeted.

'My dear boy, I've been trying to get a hold of you for weeks. When will you attend one of my dinners?' he said when he had bustled closer. 'They're fantastic, aren't they Miss Granger?'

'Oh, er – yes. They're quite enjoyable,' stumbled Hermione.

Professor Slughorn gave Harry an expectant smile. 'Free Monday evening?'

'I have a meeting with Dumbledore then,' he said, relieved. 'Sorry, Sir.'

'Blast. Dumbledore again. I will have to have words with him about taking up all your time,' he said, wagging his finger with a smile. 'Ah, well, one of these days, Harry.'

'Yeah,' agreed Harry awkwardly.

Professor Slughorn took a moment to look at the rest of the group properly. He smiled and greeted Cassy, nodded his head at Neville, and stared warily at Luna for a moment before he turned back to Harry.

'You have a diverse group of friends,' he commented uneasily and obviously searching for something to say.

'And the best anyone could hope for,' said Harry. His tone had an unusual sharpness to it. Professor Slughorn's words had triggered a jolt of protectiveness that had the older man quickly waving his hand as though erasing the comment.

'I'm sure they are,' he said quickly.

After the polite farewells and well-wishes and only when Professor Slughorn was entirely out of sight did Harry turn to Cassy with the flattest stare that had ever graced his features. She smiled innocently back up at him, her eyes widened and a slight smile on her lips. It did nothing to quell the glare.

'Really?' he demanded.

Cassy's face dropped into a smirk. 'His dinners are not that bad. I have been to worse and besides, it might do you some good to know some of the people he knows. You need the support.'

Harry groaned.

'You should really trust my opinion on dinner parties,' she said as they began to walk again.

'It's not the parties that are the problem. He just doesn't sit right with me. I don't want to have to meet his friends or ex-students,' he sighed with a shrug.

'He really isn't that bad,' added Hermione. 'He's just… very Slytherin.'

Harry fixed her with a scrutinising look. 'That's a phrase I expect from this one.' He jabbed his thumb at Cassy.

'It's rude to point like that,' commented Cassy.

'Sorry, Milady,' he said and she rolled her eyes playfully in return.

The farther they walked, the more students they found lingering around in the side streets. While many of the shops on the high street had closed, the little, independent shops in the weaving pathways away from the centre were very much still open. It was not so much of an option for them to cautiously close down their businesses, for having been inside many of them over the years, it was well-known they were often small, family run establishments that could not handle closure for the uncertain duration of the war. Nervous shopkeepers greeted them. A divide arose at the sight of Harry. The public was torn between delight and terror. He was the saviour, but if anyone was to attack it would be in search of him; several shop owners tried to give him free merchandise while others could not wait to see his back as he left the store.

It was only once they had reached the outskirts of the village that the five of them decided to turn back around and journey to the main street before agreeing to return to the castle. There were still several shops they had neglected to enter in their curiosity to see how badly the village had suffered in the few months since the war was officially announced.

When they passed a small side road, Neville suddenly halted.

'It's Mundungus,' he said, staring down the narrow street.

'Alright?' called Harry.

Fletcher suddenly jumped. He turned with eyes so wide that they were visible from the other end of the street where the teens stood. He scrambled, knocking his wares from the rickety stall; they crashed across the ground loudly against the stone with flashes of silver in the dull sunlight. He dropped to his knees heavily, his hands blindly grabbing at the merchandise.

Harry jogged forward. 'Are you alright?' Suddenly, he straightened, a spoon in his hands and a dangerous glint in his eyes. Without another word, Harry span on the spot, his forearm thrust into Fletcher's neck and knocked the smaller man against the wall, pinning him.

'Harry!' cried Hermione.

'This is the Black crest,' he growled.

Cassy's own eyes sharpened. She swept towards them and stooped to collect a silver plate.

'It was going to be thrown away, I swear!' stuttered Fletcher.

The pressure on his throat increased.

'How dare you sell my family heirlooms,' said Cassy icily. If her tone had not been enough to make Fletcher's heart palpitate, the dangerously dark expression that plagued her usually calm features was. Her eyebrows were only slightly dipped, but her eyes were tensed and narrowed, their blue hue bright against the grey of the sky and her head was tilted down a fraction, the shadowing from her brows to her high cheekbones to formulate a glare that might just make a grown man cry. It almost did, if the pallor of Fletcher's face was anything to judge by.

'Harry, you're going to choke him!' shrieked Hermione.

'You should all be inside,' said a voice from behind.

Cassy did not spin to face the owner like the others did. She knew the speaker well enough.

'He's been stealing,' hissed Harry.

'As he always does,' said Tonks nonchalantly. 'Let him go, Harry, and get yourselves inside. It's not safe out here.'

Harry growled audibly, but relented his hold.

Fletcher gasped and suddenly dived forward. Cassy kicked the trunk out of his reach, though he did not slow his flailing hands. Instead, he turned towards the table and scooped the items from the top into his arms; a watch, a pair of silver candlesticks, a serving platter, and an old, ornate necklace with an emerald covering. Then, he vanished with a loud crack.

Cassy clenched her fists. Next time she saw him, there would be words said and probably a firm blow to the gut, but she concentrated instead of collecting the remnants of the household items into his abandoned trunk.

'How can he do that?' asked Neville, aghast.

'He's a thief,' said Hermione bitterly. 'He has no loyalties as long as he gets paid.'

'C'mon now,' urged Tonks, 'You guys should head back to the high street already.'

Cassy fixed her with a critical stare. Her hair was still brown and her skin had darkened around her eyes. Tonks smiled dismissively and pushed her arms out at her sides as though about to try and heard the group back onto the main road.

'Write to me,' said Cassy shortly. 'I have not received a single letter from you all term.'

'I've been busy… y'know.' She waved her hand around them. 'I'm often on duty, so I don't have much time.'

Cassy moved to challenge that, but Luna spoke first, 'You're the lady who helped us at the Ministry. Thank-you for that.'

With that said, the rising tension between the two female Blacks was severed. Cassy calmed her expression, though she internally frowned instead, and Tonks took the opportunity to order them back onto the main street once more. Reluctantly, they separated and the five teens were again on their way to Honeydukes as they had been. After a moment, Luna turned to Cassy thoughtfully.

'She looked really sad. Her hair is brown now too; it makes her look even more depressed,' she commented.

'She's a Metamorphagus,' replied Cassy shortly. 'And she is upset.'

'About what?' asked Neville, frowning.

'It's not my place to say,' she said, staring ahead.

'She must be pretty upset for it to affect her abilities like that,' murmured Hermione.

Cassy still did not comment and Harry was too wrapped up in his anger at Fletcher to get involved in the conversation. She would have to write home, she decided, because even if Sirius did not care for the missing wares, they were then technically hers. He may have inherited the items of Grimmauld Place, but she expected him to ask her if he was truly going to through away their two-hundred-year-old dining set, which she very much doubted he would anyway. They had used it last Christmas. She tightened her hand around the trunk handle.

As they neared Honeydukes, loud shouting broke through her thoughts. Her mind turned away from her own anger to the aggression of the familiar faces of Katie Bell and her friend Leanne Wright, who was also a seventh year Gryffindor, though she was much less familiar. The latter stomped after Bell.

'Put it back, Katie!' she demanded loudly. 'Where did you even get that from?'

Bell did not turn. She approached the group and did not smile or wave at her Quidditch Captain. In her arms was a brown package, wrapped messily which she clutched to her chest protectively. Her eyes remained forward, yet unfocused. She passed them with purpose, but when she drew close, Cassy got a clear look at her eyes. They were cloudy, distant, and unseeing.

She hissed, 'Her eyes!'

'I know,' said Harry quickly.

Cassy had seen those eyes not long ago. They were not brown like Bell's then, they had been a shrouded green. So familiar yet unfamiliar in their gaze. They had been unseeing then too, unable to comprehend her as the wand twisted in the owner's hand, levelled and ready to kill. Cassy was very familiar with that stare.

'Stop!' Harry suddenly shouted.

Leanne Wright had grabbed Bell's arm and tugged fiercely. The other span on the frosted cobblestone and the parcel tumbled from her arms. Desperately, she reached for it on the floor, the packaging ripping as she gathered it back into her arms.

'Katie, what – '

There was no time for the reprimand to be completed. A loud scream pierced the air. The package dropped to the floor and all anyone could do was stare as Katie Bell's body ascended and suspended itself six-feet in the air. Her hair whipped around her face, her features frozen in place as she continued to scream and scream.

Her friend began screaming with her.

'Move away!' commanded Cassy to the girl loudly, but she merely cowered on the spot in shock.

Harry ran forward and grabbed Bell's leg. Neville, Hermione, and Luna followed suit. Cassy dropped into a crouch and eyed the necklace; it was gaudy, ostentatious with an unnecessary number of opals embedded into the shining silver. Tense, she carefully bundled the necklace back up in the packaging, careful not to touch it. She stepped back as Bell finally collapsed onto the floor, writhing and shrieking.

'I'm going to find some help,' said Harry quickly.

'Neville,' said Cassy, 'do you know any pain relief spells. My hands are occupied.' She held up the necklace and trunk a fraction to prove her point.

For a moment, he stared at her blankly, before the words seemed to infiltrate his pain and he scrambled for his wand. Hermione had her arms around the other girl who was openly sobbing at Bell's head.

After a few muttered spells, she stopped screaming. Her limbs flailed and jerked uncontrollably; her eyes stared straight ahead at the clouded sky, unseeing, unblinking. The little twitches looked a lot like the unstoppable tremors Cassy had felt after the Cruciatus Curse, like spasms that followed a complete overhaul of every nerve in one's body. Tears streaked down her face silently until she finally fell completely still.

They all waited apprehensively for Harry to return. It was the longest time not a single soul had ventured onto the street, though if the Order of the Phoenix was patrolling, it was most likely due to their insistence that everyone remain inside unless absolutely necessary. If one happened to descend upon them now in reprimand, they all would have been grateful, but as it was they had to wait for another agonising few minutes for Harry to sprint back into view. Behind him, tall and hurrying with unusual speed, was Hagrid.

'What happened?' he asked, immediately stooping to get a better look.

'The package – I told her not to take it, but she insisted. It was in the girls' toilets in the Three Broomsticks,' sobbed Leanne Wright.

'It was the Imperius Curse,' said Harry quickly. 'You could tell by her eyes.'

'Where's the package?' said Hagrid.

'Here,' said Cassy. 'It's a necklace.'

Hagrid stared at the brown bundle severely. 'Don't touch it and follow me.'

Without another word, Hagrid scooped Bell into his arms and strode towards the castle. Her friend jogged to keep pace with him, while Cassy fell back a few paces and Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Luna curiously followed suit.

With her gaze fixed ahead, she murmured, 'The necklace is the same one from Borgin and Burkes.'

Neville gasped and Harry visibly tensed despite her averted stare.

Nothing more was said as they climbed the pathway back to the castle and batted away Filch's demands that he must inspect them all before they were allowed to enter. Hagrid growled threateningly until he backed away reluctantly, but not without a threat to find them later and Cassy did not particularly mind right then if he inspected the parcel in her grasp. Yet, it did not take long for their presence to be noted by another member of staff and for their travels to be called to a halt again just inside the castle doors. On the top of the marble staircase stood Professor McGonagall, her eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

'What?' she stuttered out as she hurried down towards them.

'Cursed,' said Hagrid.

'The hospital wing, quickly,' she ordered. She turned to the remaining students. 'What happened?'

As the story began to unfold once again, they were all directed towards Professor Snape's office. He had less interest in hearing the tale and instead set his dark eyes on the parcel in Cassy's arms. She set it on the desk and he carefully unwrapped it with his wand. It glittered in the dull light of his office, suspended between the two teachers. After a few more moments, he turned to them.

'I believe it is very lucky that Miss Bell is alive,' he drawled. 'Whose idea was it to numb her?'

After a brief pause, Hermione said, 'Cassy's, Sir.'

Professor Snape hummed. 'Torturing every fibre of one's body is less effective when it cannot be felt, but next time I suggest Miss Black keeps her ideas to herself before her ignorance kills somebody. Such things will not remove the curse but erase the side-effect. It did very little to help and has probably made diagnosis tougher for Madam Pomfrey now.'

Cassy did not reply, nor did she look abashed or guilty. She kept level with his stare until he was done speaking and then politely turned her attention back to the floating necklace. Her friends, however, all shuffled in anger around her. Professor Snape did not usually insult her as he did Harry or Neville; she often thought it was because she failed to respond and it took away any satisfaction he gained.

'Severus!' snapped Professor McGonagall. 'Really now! They did their best, more than many others would think to do in their shoes.'

The praise did not quell Harry's bristling.

'It was Malfoy,' he announced forcefully.

Cassy sighed.

'That is some accusation, Mr Potter,' said Professor McGonagall, stunned. 'As it is, I can vouch for Mr Malfoy as he spent the morning in detention with me, not in Hogsmeade. I think it is best that the six of you leave now so this matter can be addressed fully, thank-you.'

With that sudden dismissal, they were all ejected from the office. After a mumbled thank-you, the seventh year Gryffindor left to check on Bell's progress and Cassy, Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Luna all decided to go their separate ways for the afternoon. Luna headed back to her common room while Hermione took the opportunity to retreat to the library, undoubtedly to research the possible curses the necklace held. That left only Cassy, Harry, and Neville to return to the Gryffindor common room, which was empty and silent with the exception of the crackling fire.

'I am going to put this in my room,' said Cassy, indicating to the trunk.

She trod upstairs heavily. Disbelief gripped her mind. It was almost unfathomable that Harry would announce Malfoy's supposed guilt in front of his Godfather. They had no evidence and even less credibility should anything else occur now because of the wild accusation. With a sigh, she began to empty the household items into her own trunk, thankful for the extension charm Mr Weasley had kindly completed for her to house all of her new books with. As she slotted each item carefully at the bottom, her hand brushed along a thin, silky material. She pulled and unearthed Harry's Invisibility Cloak. She ran the garment through her fingers; she had forgotten she had not returned it after her last excursion.

Nodding to herself, she stood and threw the cloak over her head. She vanished and remained vanished as she trekked through the castle and down towards the Dungeons. She waited for a few minutes as she hissed potential bigoted passwords at the portrait, which stared blankly ahead, until a small group of students returned with their arms stuffed with bags from Hogsmeade. She slipped in after them, but Malfoy was not lounging on the leather sofa as he had been before. He was not at the bookcase, nor playing chess. He was not in his dormitory either and she even poked her head in the boys' bathroom attached, but there was no sight of him.

Reluctantly, she climbed back up towards her own common room. It sounded ludicrous, but she almost agreed with Harry that Malfoy was somehow responsible. It seemed unlikely that another student would buy a cursed artefact from the same shop he happened to express such interest in, yet at the same time it seemed unlikely it was him because they had thought he was working on a plan for Voldemort. Killing a seventeen-year-old student seemed rather mundane for any plans the Dark Lord would have. Part of her mind avidly disagreed with that thought. It was wholly possible it was him, because just because Bell found it did not mean it was intended for her. She could merely be the messenger, but then again she was stuck with the question of how he would have enchanted her if he had been at the castle all morning, unless it was someone else altogether.

When the portrait swung open, she stumbled to a stop. Her head was a mere inch from a green woollen jumper. Slowly, her eyes moved from the chest in front and up to the pair of bottle-green eyes that stared down at her pointedly.

'Harry,' she greeted blandly.

'You just went to the Slytherin common room' he stated.

'Well, the trust in this relationship is dead,' she drawled and he snorted.

'I was looking on the map for him too,' he said, tapping the blank parchment. 'He's not there, nor is he anywhere else. Malfoy's not in the castle.'

* * *

 **A massive thanks to** _ **Love Remedy**_ **who left a lovely review and inspired me to update. I've been tied down with work and rather stressed lately. Thank-you for all the reviews so far, everyone.**

 **Anyway, here is chapter eleven. I hope you like it.**

 **Thanks!**


	12. Cry about it

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XII: Cry about it**

On the way to Herbology on Tuesday morning, Harry gave an abridge story of his latest lesson with Professor Dumbledore. Not one for recounting anything in great detail, he skimmed over the memory of Professor Dumbledore's first encounter with the young Tom Riddle at the tender age of eleven-years-old. He had spent his youth in a London orphanage, his mother having chosen death over life at the abandonment of her husband; not even her newly born son could give her a reason to live. The child had grown up isolated and alone and into an undeniably mean and controlling boy. Harry assured them the description was given by the Headmaster himself, which meant he had been a particularly spiteful child for Professor Dumbledore was not one to easy deny the positives of a person, much like Harry himself. Even from such a tender age, something had been amiss with him and his fixation on his differences from his peers. He found contentment in the knowledge these oddities could hurt the other children.

It sounded as though there was little that could have been done to dissuade the younger Tom Riddle from his path. It seemed like fate, though Cassy did not believe in such things outside of a self-fulfilling prophesy, that he should grow to be twisted and deranged. It made his story a lot less tragic to her, because it seemed as though his nature was to be malicious and not a creature of circumstance, though Harry found the story to be quite the opposite. His mother had not even bothered to stay alive for her child when she could have fought. She supposed she had a lot less attachment to the concept of mothers than him.

In turn, Cassy traded his tale for her own. The Slug Club meeting the previous evening had seen a host of outside characters brought to the dinner. One of which was Gwenog Jones, the Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Ginny had almost tripped over herself at the sight of her. Hermione had found the dark-skinned woman to be conceited, too confident in her own ability to be socially very engaging, but those amongst the group who liked Quidditch somehow found a way to work around her personality.

As they settled at a long table, Hermione turned to Harry. 'You should really come to one of the Slug Club dinners. Some of the people you can meet is amazing!'

' _Slug Club_?' snorted Ron from the next table over.

'I didn't name it!' protested Hermione quickly. She flushed in annoyance as Ron sniggered. His seat was positioned behind Hermione's own, his amusement clear, though he seemed to find her embarrassment all the more amusing. His giggling had just quelled by the time Professor Sprout commanded their attention – each and every one of Hermione's demands he be quiet only seemed to ignite his laughter a little bit more than before.

It was not long before they were set their task for the day. Within seconds, Neville had snatched half the equipment from the centre of the table and set to work without even reading the instruction sheet that was being passed around. His hand was quickly elbow deep in the mouth of the plant he and the table shared. She grimaced as she watched him rummage deeply for a pod. His arm emerged, thick with a sweet smelling liquid, but a pod in hand.

'You need to crack that open,' he instructed and handed the pod to Harry.

'How?' he asked slowly.

'Put it in the sack and smack it on the table,' said Neville, putting his arm inside again.

'What are these pods for?' questioned Cassy curiously.

'Flavouring, I think. They're pretty spicy,' he said. 'Though, I think that's the shells. I think their insides are a paste used in wound disinfectant. The shells are good for cleansing the system.'

He handed the next pod to Cassy. She raised her eyebrows and turned the seed over in her gloved hands. He certainly knew what he was talking about nowadays. He would make a fair healer if he ever wanted a challenge.

'I'm impressed,' she said, voicing her praise suddenly. 'I certainly had not known that.'

He flushed. Although his head ducked dangerously close to the mouth of the plant, his blond hair did not fall in time to smother the rising redness on his cheeks.

'I-it's not something to write home about,' he said quickly. 'I just like plants, it's one of the only things I really enjoy reading about, that's all.'

Cassy's eyes narrowed dangerously at the deflection. Neville squeaked.

Oblivious to the conversation already ongoing, Ron swung back on his stool and hooked his elbows onto their table. He peered up at Hermione, who did not so much as glance up from the instuction sheet to humour him.

'I hate the sound of those dinners,' said Ron. 'Why get dressed up to sit and talk with a bunch of people you've gone to school with for years? I could do that everyday.

'It's about meeting other like-minded people. Besides, there are guests sometimes and that's always interesting,' commented Hermione. Her eyes flickered to Neville and then traced down the sheet, most likely tallying the number of steps he had missed in preparation.

'Oh, yeah,' snorted Ron. 'Must make it all worth while to be part of the _Slug Club_. I mean, really, he couldn't have made a worse name!'

There's going to be a Christmas Ball,' said Hermione shortly.

For the first time, Cassy looked up at them.

'Oh, great. I suppose you'll be cuddling up to McLaggen under the mistletoe, he can't keep his eyes off you,' teased Ron and though his voice was light, his blue eyes flashed and darkened like lightening before thunder in the midsts of an early storm.

'No, actually,' said Hermione briskly. 'We can bring someone with us. I had been thinking of asking you, unless you want me to go with McLaggen.'

'No, I don't,' muttered Ron.

Harry jolted in surprise and the pod sack missed the table and collided with the ceramic dish. Cassy, who had been watching the exchange with interest, turned to Harry with eyes bright with amusement. The shattering broke Hermione and Ron's connection and quickly they returned to their tasks. Cassy excused herself to fetch a knife to see if the pod could be sliced open instead and the lesson continued without another word shared between the pair. Despite their silence, the thoughts that whirled around Harry's head visibly plagued him all lesson and the moment the bell rang he was at Cassy's side.

'They fancy each other!' he announced in a loud whisper.

'Noticed, have you? I thought I was supposed to be the emotionally dense one,' she playfully jeered.

'Only about yourself,' he snorted. 'I wonder if this will affect the DA meetings.'

'If you had not broken the atmosphere they might have actually sorted their feelings out and we would know by the end of the week if it does,' she said, smirking.

'You could have told me!' he protested and she let out a tinkering laugh.

'It was obvious!'

Hermione and Ron did not share another word for the remainder of the morning. Cassy continued her position of allowing it to develop naturally and Neville was very much in the same opinion and had not even batted an eyelash at the confession. Whilst he decided to pursue his own romantic interests in finding Luna, and Harry had reluctantly decided he needed a replacement Seeker for his team and went to recruit Dean, Cassy made her way to the library. Stephen was almost always there because he complained the common room was too noisy; intelligence did not mean book-smart and he grumbled that contrary to popular belief, Ravenclaws had a range of mental skills and often that mingled into rather loud debates of group projects and as a House that values wit in its motto the insults that were fired were usually difficult to ignore. Astoria, on the other hand, had been spending an increasingly larger amount of time in there because it removed her from her housemates.

As she turned the final corner with the library doors in sight, Cassy spotted an unfortunate sight: Shandy was exiting and heading straight towards her. Yet, as he approached, he did nothing more than spare a fleeting glance in her direction.

Despite herself, Cassy could not resist speaking. Since the start of the year he had barely uttered a word to her. When he did speak it was in some distant tone with an unenthusiastic greeting. The dismissal was slowly driving her mad. She should not care, she knew it and she often told herself she did not, but she wanted to know why he was so reluctant to be around her. When she had crossed him the first time and saw him gain a month's detentions for trespassing aboard the Durmstrang ship, he had bounced back with vengeance.

But this time, she thought, this time I may have crossed a line.

'Still around, are you? With how quickly you retreated yesterday one might have thought something had happened,' she said lowly.

He halted slowly, as though contemplating if the conversation was going to be worth breaking his stride for. He eyes her with his head only partially inclined, disinterested, disrespectful.

'I am surprised you have not been swallowed by the media,' he said. He then turned and continued down the hall, hands in his pockets.

'Are you afraid the Dark Lord will mistake us for friend if you actually speak to me?' she called. She did not know why she bothered. She had spent the last two years lamenting his very association.

He paused and swivelled to stare at her over his shoulder. 'We are not, nor will we ever be, friends.'

Cassy watched him leave. His words did not hurt her. She did not care about that at all, but his coolness ignited a fierce curiosity she had not felt in a long time. She wanted to know what he was doing by befriending Stephen again, what he intended to do in the war, why he was now so adamant she was beyond redemption and no longer worth the effort to rile, and she wanted to know who he was when he was not with her more than anything else. This Shandy was a different side, a side she assumed the rest of the world must have seen when he was not teasing her. There had to be something more, for as much as Stephen complained about the other, he never actively sought to exclude him when he was near. As impossible as it seemed, perhaps there was more to their friendship and if there was then there was more to Shandy.

When Cassy eventually found Stephen, and Astoria by default, she slipped into the seat opposite and left little opportunity for anything beyond a quick greeting to be exchanged.

'Why are you and Shandy friends?' she asked bluntly.

Stephen paused and looked up at her. He slipped his large black-rimmed glasses further up his nose. 'We're not, not really.'

'You are. You are together often in class, you take all the same electives. Plus, you exchange Christmas cards,' she pushed.

Stephen stared. The silence stretched on for an unexpected length of time; Cassy had not anticipated his hesitance. She thought he would reveal a few generic facts and their relationship might be broken down to a sense of familiarity with a learnt fondness, but she could get some character traits to work with none the less. However, he appeared to be thinking hard about his answer, or about something, at least, because his eyes remained on her face the entire time he was quiet.

Eventually, he spoke. 'Despite what you think, he's not that bad. He's a laugh, if nothing else and when he's not causing trouble or harassing people and being harassed he can be thoughtful.'

Thoughtful, repeated Cassy's mind in disbelief.

Luckily she did not have to voice it because Astoria said it loudly enough for half the library to hear.

'If you mean thoughtful in his ways to crush your existence then yes, I am sure he is very thoughtful!' she mocked.

Stephen's scowl was unlike any expression Cassy had ever seen him wear before. His lips tightened slightly and his jaw tensed as his eyes slid to the upper corners in a lazy attempt to stop his eyes rolling. It forced her to push on carefully.

'What do you mean by that?' she asked tentatively.

'I very much doubt there is anyone else currently part of this student body who is more aware of the injustices in our society, Cassy. You had it difficult, I'm sure, but Ben was pushed and pushed to be something he could never then have, a spare and nothing more and then, in the end, not even that. He is cold and he is calculating, but do not assume he does not see what you do and what you stand for because if he asks me one more time about what you intend to do with your new lordship powers I will have to lock you two in a broom cupboard until you are sick to death of one another so I don't have to hear another word of it. He doesn't like Muggles, he doesn't like Purebloods. He tolerates people despite what they are and for that reason if you strike a chord with him then he can be a very good person to have around and I do enjoy his company, in small doses, or else I wouldn't have gone to the World Cup and hung about with him.' When Stephen finished talking, Cassy reclined in her seat and pressed her fingers to her lips thoughtfully.

He sighed again. 'Why do you want to know, anyway? What has he done this time?'

'Nothing,' said Cassy. 'I am trying to collect information on the viewpoints of the more questionable students. Shandy is proving evasive. Now, if you could rant about Blaise Zabini, then I would appreciate it.' Her slight smirk made Stephen groan.

'Sorry,' he said. 'It's just, I know how much you two hate him.'

'I don't hate him,' said Cassy simply. 'I just dislike him when he antagonises me.'

Astoria snorted. 'That's all the time.'

'Then I like him when he's gone.'

The three burst into laughter and it was not long before Madam Pince poked her head reprovingly around a bookcase. They talked until the bell rang and signalled the end of their lunch break. Thankful she had a free period, Cassy waved good-bye and began the climb back to the common room thoughtfully. During the conversation she had not had much time to dedicate what Stephen had revealed about Shandy. His background was familiar to her, she had used it against him more than once as he did with her own to her. He was never to be the Head of the new noble family, low and unimportant within politics, but still granted a place amongst Wizengamot. Even last year she had decided she saw herself in Shandy and it remained true, particularly with the new information. If it would have been better received, she truly would have liked to ask Stephen what he meant by Shandy's questioning of her lordship.

Despite having talked herself into a difficult position with now another person on her list to watch, Cassy was in good spirits when she entered the common room. Immediately, her mood faltered. Despite the habitual crackling of the fire and the low hum of conversation, there was something distinctly _off_ about the atmosphere; it was heavy and stilted with hushed whispers and the faint shuddering of tearful breaths. Quickly, Cassy honed in on the source of the sniffing. Long, vibrant red-hair obscured the shaking shoulders of Ginny Weasley.

Frowning now, Cassy scanned the room until she met familiar green-eyes that were widened in warning. Harry jerked his head towards Ginny from his seat beside Ron at the fire. Seamus was on his other side, looking torn between annoyance and exasperation.

Carefully and swiftly, Cassy stepped towards the little table Ginny occupied with Hermione. Strangely, they both looked tearful.

'What happened?' she asked, frowning and perplexed.

'Ron's being a git,' said Ginny nasally. 'He was absolutely horrid to me about Dean in the corridor and it's not the first time he's been like that either. I'm getting sick of it. He's just jealous that he's got no one. It's making Dean unhappy too. They're supposed to be best friends.'

'I said I think it might be because he's her brother, but – ' began Hermione.

'He sees Phlegm and Bill together,' snapped Ginny, straightening in her seat and crushing the crumpled tissue in her hand tightly.

Hermione widened her eyes to give Cassy a pointed look. They had clearly exhausted all avenues of comfort and Ginny remained quite stubbornly rueful and quite rightly so, if his anger towards her had been anything like it had been towards Cassy in first year.

'She's not – ' said Cassy.

'She's not what? Not that bad? Going to tell me again I shouldn't call her that?' barked Ginny viciously. 'I don't care about her. I care about the fact that one rule always applies to me and another for everyone else. Ron can get lost. He can stuff his jealousy and you can always be a bit more supportive, y'know. Just because people think you and Harry being together is the bloody best thing to ever happen doesn't mean you can't sympathise with me a little! And, for your information, some people are really against you two, you're both just lucky not to have any family to voice it.'

Cassy stared.

Ginny swept from the table and fled upstairs with fresh tears in her eyes. Slowly, Cassy's features slipped from calm to steeled as aggravation set in. Glaring, she glanced at Hermione.

'I was going to say Fleur is not Ron's younger sister,' she said lowly.

'She's… she's obviously very upset by whatever Ron said,' assured Hermione uneasily. 'She didn't mean anything.'

Cassy gave a short, sharp hum. 'Do not speak for her, you do not know what she meant and what she did not. She obviously knows more on the public review of my relationship then I do, though had she said that and Harry have heard I would not have let her go so easily.' Cassy had Sirius, but had lost the rest; Harry had never really had any once his parents had died. It was a low blow. 'Ron and Ginny can be very similar.'

'Yeah, I suppose they can be,' murmured Hermione.

'Why is he ignoring you?'

'I don't honestly know,' said Hermione heavily.

It only took a few more hours for Cassy to learn exactly what Ron's issue with Hermione was. She had slipped onto the sofa after Ron had decided to go downstairs for dinner and Harry had confessed that Ron and he had walked in on Ginny and Dean entangled in a corridor; an argument had broken out and Ron had thrown some insults about Ginny's questionable reputation with boys and in turn she had sneered that his only kissing experience was with their Aunt Muriel. They had both become upset and Harry had hauled Ron away when a fight threatened to break out, but Ron had ignored many of his sister's words in favour of fixating on a singular comment: Hermione has kissed Krum.

It was true, they all knew it and suddenly the relationship that had Ron ecstatic in fourth year now had him furious. The contact was some imagined slight on their non-existent romance. Neither Cassy nor Harry thought it was appropriate to tell Hermione, though they debated it many times over the next week. It became especially difficult not to tell her when Ron's attitude deteriorated as the next Quidditch game drew ever closer. He roared at Robins in their final practice session until she ran from the pitch in tears. Harry had threatened to throw him off the team; Ron tried to resign and Harry refused to accept it.

Cassy was not certain forcing Ron to play in the match was the best option for any of them, but she did not second-guess Harry's choice. She put no thought into it the morning of the match, her attention was occupied with a small notebook she was furiously scribbling in. Her food lay forgotten, pushed aside to make room for the thoughts that over-spilt from her mind. It was as though her hand could not write fast enough and her brain could not decide on what was the most important thing to record.

'You're writing rather aggressively,' commented Harry, his chin on his hand. Goggles were hung around his neck over his scarlet Quidditch jersey.

'I… need to get this down… for… the speech,' she said slowly back, too distracted by her thoughts to formulate proper sentences.

'The radio broadcast,' he clarified. 'I don't know how you can want to do that.'

'Thank-you, Harry,' she replied flatly.

'You know what I mean,' he said flippantly.

Not long after the argument, Cassy received a curious letter in the post. It was from a radio station who were interested in hearing from her to further her comments made in _The Daily Prophet_. She had received many letters in response to it, but the one from the station had been the one she had hoped for. It was not the most major radio organisation. It was well listened to though all the same and she was confident that if it was grasped firmly it could change that. It was almost better than she could have hoped, because there were not many establishments willing to put themselves publicly opposed to Voldemort, not when so many people had begun to go missing.

Cassy flicked her high ponytail back over her shoulder and adjusted the sleeves on her own knitted, red jumper as she paused in her writing.

'Are you going to wish Ginny good luck?' he asked after a moment.

Cassy did not even bother to glance up from the notebook. 'I have no issues with Ginny. She's the one ignoring me.'

Ginny had not apologised and Cassy had not tried to explain the misunderstanding. They were at a standstill of stubbornness and with the issues he was facing with Ron, Harry could not even find the energy to persuade her to try.

'Even if you lose the game you are still in with a chance to win the cup,' reminded Cassy simply.

'I know, but it will help shut people up. I get enough flack having two of my classmates on the team and having another friend _and_ an old teammate without then losing the match too,' he sighed.

'People will _always_ talk,' she said. 'You have had worse than a bit of Quidditch criticism, I'm certain.'

'But I want to win,' he jokingly whined. 'Now I know why Oliver Wood went so crazy near match times.'

Cassy smiled and fixed him with a pointed look.

'You two are cheerful,' came a dull, gloomy voice.

The pair looked up. Towering above them was Ron, his face drawn and pale. Darkness had claimed the skin surrounding his eyes and his hair was rumpled in a fashion much more associated with Harry's messy mop than Ron's own. He dropped down onto the bench heavily and as he did, he revealed a sheepish Neville behind him.

'Hello,' greeted Neville as he took a seat on Harry's other side. He flashed his eyebrows and nodded his head at Ron. In response, Cassy raised her own eyebrows just a fraction and turned to watch Harry pile Ron's plate with toast. He nibbled at it after an insistent push of his plate.

Cassy had returned to writing by the time Hermione had arrived for breakfast. She was seated on Cassy's right, opposite Neville and pointedly out of Ron's immediate sight. Although while she did not notice it, Ron's eyes followed her from the moment she stepped through the doorway until she sat. He then returned miserably to his food.

Continuing her writing, Cassy did not look up again until she heard a loud shriek. Startled and very nearly deafened, she slowly turned to Hermione who was staring in horror at Harry.

'Don't drink that!' she demanded.

'What?' frowned Ron.

'Harry put something in your drink,' she said, aghast.

There was a slight pause before Ron downed his drink. Suddenly, his chest puffed out and a serene shine overtook his features.

'Let's go. Harry. Don't we have a game to win?' he said, beaming.

Harry grinned. 'Yeah, alright then.'

'Good luck,' drawled Cassy, smirking.

Harry leant across the table and placed the little vile of golden liquid in her hands, entwining her fingers around the warm glass. He winked.

After a quick glance down, she smirked back before turning in amusement to watch Hermione aggressively shred her toast.

The little notebook was tucked away in the pocket of her jeans and she returned to the plate of food she had dished herself and never touched. Over the years, she had grown familiar and oddly fond of cold breakfasts; they made her think of Alphard and inquisitive early mornings. As she ate, Luna joined the three Gryffindors. On her head was her usual roaring lion hat and a colourful pallet of paints were withdrawn from beneath it and without asking any permission, she began to draw on Cassy and Neville's faces. Scarlet and golden lines coloured their cheeks and soon the four set off towards the Quidditch pitch to beat the rush.

They found seats high in the stands. A Gryffindor banner hung beneath the railings Cassy rested her forearms on as the teams filtered onto the pitch below. The red of Gryffindor was met with the deep green of Slytherin House as the two teams took to the skies in a flurry of fluttering jerseys. Thunderous applauses echoed through the grounds as the first match of the season finally began.

As they got into formation, Cassy could not help but notice that Malfoy was not present.

'We've got Harper substituting for Malfoy on the Slytherin team today,' announced Zacharias Smith from the commentary stand beside the teacher's box. 'Today we get to see the debut of Potter's captaincy. He's made some interesting choices. Two friends from his year and then his good friend, Ginny Weasley. Of course, don't forget that in the past he has played with Fred and George Weasley too, so it's not surprise that protests of favouritism have been made against him. Anyway, Slytherin are in possession.'

'I can't believe someone let Smith commentate,' grumbled Hermione.

'Does anyone like him?' said Seamus, who had come to stand with them. 'He needs to lighten up a bit.'

'Slytherin are coming up on the inside, careful now, Gryffindor don't stand a chance – Weasley blocked it!' There was a delayed roar from the stands. Hermione whistled loudly. Smith paused to compose himself. 'I suppose even he must get lucky sometimes.'

Cassy observed the stands with narrowed eyes. 'Do you reckon I could hex him from here or should I go beneath the stands? I feel like I need to explore all possibilities.'

'Beneath,' offered Luna.

'Just punch him afterwards,' offered Seamus.

'It's on the list,' said Cassy.

When Ron saved another attempted goal, Smith began to lose interest in insulting him. Instead, he moved on to the Beater, Coote, criticising his lack of muscle and the unusual choice. It was only when he said Gryffindor seemed to be lacking any good players this year that a hiss echoed loudly through his microphone and Cassy binocular-aided gaze caught the end of Professor McGonagall's firm gaze and Smith's moody glare.

'He really thinks he's something today, doesn't he?' said Smith as Ron blocked yet another Quaffle. 'Oh!'

Everyone's eyes fluttered around the pitch in search of what Smith had seen.

'Harper's off. He's clearly seen something Potter hasn't,' he announced.

Harper was several feet in front of Harry and even with his chest almost flat against his broom handle, Harry was still behind. Then, something happened. From where they were stood, not one was quite sure what it was, but Harper suddenly halted and his head whipped back to Harry, who shot past and caught the awaiting Snitch effortlessly. How it had happened no one seemed to care about, for half the stadium burst into cheers at the sight of a Slytherin loss.

'Gryffindor wins one-hundred and ninety to zero,' said Smith, though his voice could not possibly be any more disappointed.

Shouts and screams of excitement pierced the air even louder as Harry swept towards the stands. Hands reached out to congratulate him as he passed and he met them with an open palm and shrugged off those who tried to grab him. In the sea of scarlet, he caught sight of Cassy at the front of the last Gryffindor box. He pulled to a stop in front of her, thick, black hair dishevelled even more from the wind and a sly smirk on his lips.

'Ron certainly felt lucky today, didn't he?' he said and pulled his goggles from his face, revealing his beautiful eyes.

'Honestly,' she said loudly over the cheers, 'you are awful. Good game, Captain.'

Leaning over the railings, they locked into a kiss that sent the surrounding crowd into a frenzy. At times, neither remembered that their relationship was something kept away from the public eye. It was anything but a spectacle, exactly the way they wanted it to be, but in that moment their fellow Gryffindors thought it was truly something to behold.

Hermione laughed loudly and upon turning to the crowd, Cassy saw the devastated faces of many girls. Between the despair and elation of the onlookers, there was a single pair of black eyes heatedly glaring; Romilda Vane was furious. Cassy's gaze swept over her, but she did not feel the stare retract until she herself had left the stands.

Back in the common room, the habitual party was underway. Whether the team won or lost there was always a celebration or commiseration of sorts that involved a lot of food and drink obtained from the kitchens. The radio was drowned out by the collective singing of 'Weasley is our King' and Ron found himself surrounded by people he had most likely never spoken to before, all of whom "just knew" he could do it. McLaggen sulked in a distant corner and Vane was not in a dissimilar position amongst her gaggle of friends.

The revelation of Cassy and Harry's relationship seemed to have deterred many of the interested girls. Far more approached Cassy that she expected. Inwardly, she lamented that her reputation as an arrogant, formidable and wholly unapproachable individual had lapsed; Neville had laughed at her mutterings and assured her it had not but Harry's reputation and the need for gossip had won against their fear of her. Cassy said she needed to be firmer then and Harry had laughed.

Since the party had begun some twenty-minutes earlier, Hermione had yet to leave the little table at the back of the common room. She toyed with a single stalk of heather she had plucked from the rolling hillside, a dumb smile on her face as she gazed at the flower she twirled between her fingers so delicately.

'You shouldn't have done it, you know,' she said, finally looking up at Harry opposite.

'Done what?' he asked innocently.

'Put it in his drink,' she said. 'The Liquid Luck.'

'I didn't,' he said.

'Oh, please. I saw you,' she said sternly.

Cassy reached into her pockets and held the vile up. It was full.

'You didn't put it in. Ron only thought you did,' she breathed, a wide grin breaking out across her face.

'Ron doesn't need luck. He needs confidence,' said Harry, reclining.

Hermione's head whipped around to where Ron was surrounded by his newly adoring fans. Suddenly, the smile slipped from her features, slow and yet all at once. Like the face of a child who unwrapped a birthday present to find it was a dictionary, the enjoyment slid from her face reluctantly. Confusion filled her eyes and before Cassy could look away to see what had caused the shift, tears had surfaced.

Ron was entangled with Lavender Brown.

Hermione was half way to the door before either Cassy or Harry had a chance to say anything at all. Immediately, they both stood and made to follow her. Half way through the crowd though, Ginny caught them by an arm each.

'Seen Ron?' she snorted. 'Like a couple of eels. It's actually kind of revolting, but at least she might back off now.'

Cassy lowered her eyebrows thoughtfully, ignoring the apparent dismissal of Ginny's previous anger towards her.

'You are aware that Hermione likes Ron?' she said, staring hard.

Ginny blanched. 'She _what_?'

'It's a secret,' said Harry urgently. 'We need to go and see her now. She just left.'

Only Hermione was now heading towards them. Her head was ducked and her dark, bushy hair hid her face. She rushed past and Cassy shrugged herself free.

'Let me,' she said.

Jumping two steps at a time up to the first dormitory, Cassy opened the door sheepishly. It might have been better to send Ginny, but then again, she was uncertain if Hermione would want to see Ron's sister right then and Harry could not climb the girls' staircase. Regardless, Cassy awkwardly stepped towards Hermione, who lay face down on her bed, unmoving and silent. As she perched on the edge beside her, she could only think to say one thing, 'I'm sorry.'

As though a barrier had been breached, Hermione shot up and flung her arms around her neck. Her head was buried in the joint of Cassy's neck and great sobs racked her shuddering frame. The tears burst forth from her eyes and noisy, throaty sobs crawled traitorously from her throat.

'I – I thought, I thought he l-liked me t-too,' she snivelled.

Cassy did not know what to say. She had thought he liked her too.

* * *

 **Merry Christmas! The actual Christmas chapters are going to be up probably in January time because there is still a fair few between this and them. Oh, well. I've never actually managed to get one out in the appropriate season.**

 **Anyway, thank-you for the reviews and kind words. I promise there will be romantic displays! For some reason, seventh year is shaping up to be pretty romantic. I don't know how to write people being romantic at sixteen/seventeen-years-old and at boarding school. I had a think about it after I read the review. It will come though! I promise.**

 **As always, please let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks!**


	13. Lady Black

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XIII: Lady Black**

'Honestly, he is at liberty to kiss whomever he pleases.'

Despite Hermione's cordial words, her tone suggested she felt quite the opposite. With clipped words and a repeating mantra of how agreeable the entire situation was, she could scarcely make her true feelings on Ron and Lavender dating any more obvious. There was little anyone could think to say in response in the days that followed the match. Ron seemed to hold the same feelings for Hermione that she did for him and yet since kissing Lavender he did not look twice at her. Everything had changed when Ginny had told Ron that Hermione had kissed Viktor Krum; they all agreed that was the shift in the dynamic and Cassy had considered several reasons why.

The most obvious cause of bitterness was that Krum was one of Ron's idols. He had been ecstatic by her association with him at the time, but at his feelings developed, the idea that Hermione might have really meant something to a man Ron would normally be unable to compete with in nearly any fashion was something that must have eaten away at his mind. The other cause was really interlinked with the first: Ron was insecure and so had gone for the girl most willing to accept him, who just happened to be Lavender Brown. The pair had taken even Dean and Seamus by surprise – especially Seamus as he and Lavender had dated in their fourth year. However, it mostly appeared to be a physical attraction, for in the two weeks they had been together not a single conversation more than a few words long had been heard between the two.

Neither Hermione nor Ron had appeared for the last Dumbledore's Army meeting. Guiltily, Cassy, Harry, Neville, Ginny, and Luna all privately agreed it was probably for the best; whenever the pair were within eyesight of each other the atmosphere became heavy and unmanageable, though Ron had voiced once or twice that he had no idea why. Try as they may, Harry and Neville had been unable to bridge the gap between the two. Cassy, on the other hand, did not try to. She merely listened to Hermione's continuous monologue. If Ron was in a relationship with someone else, there was nothing to be done.

'As it is,' said Hermione as she stomped through the long grass on a sloping hill, 'I have had to make other arrangements for Slughorn's party.'

Cassy eyed the back of her head. 'This is not a revenge ploy, is it?'

'Of course not,' Hermione scoffed. 'There's nothing to get revenge on. Ron is completely within his rights.'

Cassy wondered if Hermione said that enough if she might actually begin to believe it. So far she had said it fifty-four times in various forms. Choosing wisely not to comment, she followed Hermione down the hill and towards Hagrid's home.

Thick grey clouds sat low in the autumn sky. Slithers of sunlight broke through, the crisp orange and yellow leaves were illuminated and the still waters of the Black Lake glistened between each departure of drifting clouds. Though the weather had brightened since the gloomy autumn day Katie Bell was injured, a dry, cold air had drifted in and there was no choice but to dress in thick layers of homemade scarves and woollen jumpers. Cassy's Grandfather had sent her a blue and red scarf, designed and knitted by his own two hands. Where he had learnt it, she had no idea.

Still, it was wrapped firmly around her neck and she tugged it up over her mouth as Hermione turned with a familiar look of scrutiny on her face.

'Where have you been disappearing to, anyway?' she asked. 'At first, I thought you and Harry had been spending time together – and if it is then I don't really want to know – '

Cassy made a small 'tch' noise from between her teeth. 'It has nothing to do with Harry.'

'That's what I thought, because I usually see him come back from practice without you,' continued Hermione.

In truth, Cassy had spent more time than she would have liked focused on Malfoy. Once a week for the last two and a bit months she had visited the Slytherin common room in what she told herself was to seek information on his plans. It was, of course, largely to do with that, but she had a smaller interest in his wellbeing. She did not flutter in worry or seek assurance he was healthy, but instead watched with curious eyes as his body became worn, critical of every aspect of his slower, sluggish movements and his hurried and darting eyes. His ears had become sharper, keen and listening, no longer consumed by the sound of his own voice. The transformation was interesting, if nothing else.

At first, she had only intended to go once. Her initial visit was supposed to be the last, but before his absence from the Quidditch game she had begun to notice other unusual activities. Class absences and frequent and mysterious illnesses plagued his usually healthy form. His absences from the classroom were matched by his frequent disappearances on the Marauder's Map. He became almost untraceable and Cassy had never been able to watch him vanish, he was always gone by the time either she or Harry had had a chance to check. So, instead of one visit to his common room for information, it had become many. She spread out her visits and if she could not make it then she did not fret, never keen to put her wayward cousin above her own happiness anymore. His business was his, try and she might to plot to persuade him he was wholly wrong in his beliefs.

'Is it something to do with Malfoy?' questioned Hermione perceptively.

Cassy cast her a long sideways look. 'It is nothing to worry about.'

She dearly wished to see his forearms and to settle everything. However, there was not a doubt in her mind that Malfoy was involved with Voldemort somehow, Death Eater or not, and that he was in some way responsible for his strange behaviour.

The conversation changed when heavy knocks pounded against Hagrid's door. Eager to lift his spirits and distract him from his woes, the two sought a more joyful topic. Hagrid had spent the last few meals almost in tears on the rare occasion he appeared. Several times in the last week he had missed meals altogether, and though Harry had visited during his free period the day before, it seemed to have done little good. That meant it was someone else's turn to check on him and Hermione often insisted Cassy accompanied her wherever she went now, however silently the plea was made.

He was happy to see them anyway, although it only took until the kettle had boiled for him to interrupt the conversation with a mournful declaration that Aragog was still very sick – apparently their story of the mess at the lesson changeover when Blood Pop sweets had been dissolved in a bucket and thrown over the railings onto a group of fourth years had reminded him of the giant spider. Neither asked about why. As the conversation dissolved into watery tones and shining eyes, Cassy thought carefully of an excuse to leave. It would have been bearable had Hermione's own sadness not found footing in Hagrid's plight and the pair soon found comfort in their unrelated miseries. Every time she tried, though, she was called back into the conversation and the hour wore onwards with increasing need to escape.

With nothing to say and her mug drained of tea, she slipped from the hut with only a glance at her watch and the excuse she had agreed to meet Harry after his training down at the Quidditch pitch. It was the only excuse Hagrid seemed to want to accept. She cut across through the dew splattered grass that had grown much too long and onto the crooked pavement that led away from the castle as far as one could get. As she did, she passed Ginny, who tried to hug her purely because she was covered in dirt, and she waved to Ron, who had Lavender attached to his arm. He smiled sheepishly at Cassy's raised eyebrow.

She did not knock on the changing room door, having counted the team members as she passed.

'Slow today, are you?' she said loudly, announcing her presence as she threw open the door. Her voice echoed and a small noise of joy sounded in response.

'Ah,' said Harry. He turned to grin as she rounded the corner. He was sat on one of the benches, still dressed in his winter Quidditch robes and his broom was propped up beside him. 'I was wondering when you'd get here.'

Cassy inspected him closely before her eyes drifted to his broom; beside it was another broom. He grinned even wider.

'I'm going to teach you how to fly,' he stated.

For a moment, she merely stared. 'Lovely sentiment, but no.'

'It wasn't an offer,' he said and stood.

As Cassy visibly recoiled, her face upturning in wariness, he dropped the broomstick back down and held out his hands appealingly.

'If you don't love it, I will never try and teach you again, okay?' he promised. 'You loved the motorbike and flying's a lot like that, trust me.'

Inwardly, Cassy sighed. It would have been easy to justify her refusal if he had not had just said that. Harry loved flying and he loved Quidditch, neither of which she had more than a remote interest in; in fact, she only even watched the games because her friends participated and she had an investment in her House winning the cup in the end. He adored it and had made several efforts to understand her traditional customs, so it seemed only fair that she tried to indulge him in his hobby, if just the once. With any luck, he would give up within half-an-hour after seeing how terrible she was.

Cassy did not partake in the practice of swearing. Good company did not swear and many of the words she had learnt mostly came from Ron and some interesting combinations spouted from Harry occasionally. Yet, as she sat on a broomstick twenty-feet from the ground a fair few words came to mind she dearly wanted to say. She also wanted to smack the stupidly amused expression off her boyfriend's face, but she dared not move.

'You jumped from the third floor onto a moving staircase the other day,' commented Harry, eyes bright with mirth. 'How can you not do this?'

Cassy glared. Jumping from atop a set of railings and onto a staircase did not give the horrible sensation of weightlessness that flying did. Falling was over within a second.

'The height,' she said indignantly, 'is not an issue. I just hate brooms.'

'Yet you flew fine of Thestrals and like motorbikes,' he said slowly, squinting with a ridiculous smile still on his face.

'All very different things,' she said and he hummed doubtfully.

'I'll tell you what. How about you fly with me for a bit until you're used to it and then we can try again on your own?'

That plan sounded even worse than the current one. On her own she could control the height and movement – or lack of movement – but the only power she had if she rode with him was the threat of bodily harm if he did not listen to her. Reluctantly, she still found herself perched behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist, pointedly not tight in an attempt to appear less cautious than she really was. One foot above ground, four foot higher, even fifteen foot was fine, until Harry grabbed her arm tightly and shot into the sky. She did not shriek, thankfully, but she did dig her nails harshly into his stomach though it was hardly felt through the woollen Quidditch jumper he wore.

He laughed as she uncurled her fingers.

'Sorry,' he said and she very much doubted he was. 'It's not so bad, though, is it? Being this high?'

'My problem is not with heights. I like heights,' she argued. 'I just hate broomsticks. That is literally the only problem.'

'Bit of a weird problem,' he muttered.

She squeezed his stomach tightly, making his grunt. 'If I die the day before my seventeenth birthday, I will haunt you.'

'Excellent,' he said.

'As a poltergeist,' she elaborated, grumbling.

'I'd work around it,' he said as he allowed the broom to slowly drift sideways.

By the time the sky was streaked with orange and the Sun hung low in the sky, peace had been made with the broomstick. It was not enjoyable, not entirely anyway and she was reluctant to say that weaving between the clouds and across the treetops as they veered from the pitch and over the forest was enjoyable at all, but there was an undeniable freedom in it. She still did not trust the stick, but with her head rested on Harry's shoulder, the smell of broomstick polish and autumn leaves filling her nose, and only the sound of the gentle breeze as it ran its ghostly fingers through her hair, it mattered very little.

Harry had wanted to teach her to fly tomorrow, he admitted, since it was her birthday, but she was out for much of the day with pre-approved plans by Professor Dumbledore. She had quipped she would be even less inclined to learn on her birthday, he would have had to drag her to the pitch and he had just laughed and continued to circle the stadium.

The pair swung close to the peaks of the trees, so low, in fact, that Cassy thought she could touch them, if she were to just lean down.

And fall to my death, her mind added cynically and the idea was pushed aside. Perhaps if she had her wand she could dangle seventy-foot in the air unconcerned. No, her brain reminded her firmly, with or without a wand, on anything but a thrice-damned broomstick.

'This is not so bad,' she muttered eventually, 'but I still am not a fan of flying.'

'Wait until I teach you Quidditch,' said Harry and chortled at the sharp, disgruntled noise that involuntarily left her throat.

* * *

Neville had once told her it was poor form to work on her birthday, but Cassy still did so for all the years he had known her. Even with surprise birthday parties and demands for fun, she would always find a way to use slow moments for extra homework or reading, lest she wasted her time entirely. However, with her birthday plans being as they were and wholly designed by herself this year, she could not afford to work. It would be rude and frowned upon in the company she designed for herself. So, she remained awake until the early hours of the morning carefully plotting a star chart for Alchemy, listing each lunar effect on various potions and ingredients. The three-week project was finally done when the lingering souls of the Gryffindor common room had retreated and the House-Elves were thoroughly underway with their nightly clean.

The moon was suspended high in the night sky, whole and bright. As Cassy wandered through the silent halls of the castle, only the sound of her own light footfalls against the soft snoring of the slumbering portraits to be heard, she spared a thought to Remus, who was most likely lumbering through a forest, joints stiff with pain and his mind half-gone from the transformation. If he was on a mission it would be with other werewolves, most likely unable then to consume the Wolfsbane potion to keep any of his sanity. Tonks would probably be staring out the window now as she was, wondering, worrying.

The white light soon vanished and her wand was drawn to illuminate the basement corridors. The portrait of the fruit bowl swung open and unlike before light flooded out of the kitchen and into the corridor. For a moment, Cassy paused. Her eyes immediately directed to the sound of running water and were met with wide, grey ones. They snapped into a glare and the trickling halted. Turning away, Malfoy tipped his head backwards and downed the goblet of water as though she was not even there.

Carefully, Cassy stepped in. The door closed quietly behind her and she strode to the cabinet on the other side of the room where the teachers' crockery was stored. Unlocking it, she said, 'You can talk to me, you know.' The words were calm and clear, yet they rang sharply in the heavy silence.

He did not reply.

'If something is wrong, no matter what it is about,' she continued calmly, not allowing any sort of imploring tone to creep into her voice. It was an offer and not a plea.

'What the hell are you talking about?' he asked gruffly.

Cassy pulled a mug from the cupboard and rolled it over in her hands, inspecting it carefully.

Malfoy let out a sharp puff of air from between his teeth. The goblet slammed against the counter and it was only then that she spoke.

'You look sickly. You do not attend class and when you do it is with minimal effort. Your homework is hardly ever turned in on time and your friends have grown frustrated with you. If something is wrong, then I will be there to listen,' she said finally.

'I don't need your help. I have grown up while you have grown down. I am not a child and I do not need your assistance of all people's,' he sneered. His knuckles paled against the strain of his deathly grip on the sideboard.

Cassy's eyes moved from his clenched fists to his face at last. The night was already not going to plan, so it hardly seemed an issue that she caused a little more trouble for herself than she was already in. She had just wanted to stretch her legs and get a drink before she went to bed, but such a rare opportunity to talk to her cousin could not be missed for the sake of avoiding a little argument afterwards. 'Whatever you are doing, please think about it rationally first. If it is what you truly want, then fine, but if not, by all means speak to me.'

Even though he words were as ambiguous as possible, they struck some sort of meaning with Malfoy. The goblet soared across the kitchen and collided with the tiles behind her head, clattering noisily as it bounced from the counter and to the floor.

'I don't need your help! I have never needed your help. When will you get that through that thick skull of yours? Everything that was between our families was done only because of my mother's respect for Alphard, if it had been anyone else cursed with you then she would have left you to rot and you would have, you know. Have you ever heard what everyone would say when you were away? Ever considered how people think of you? Narcissistic, arrogant, sly, spiteful, underhanded. Then, even after we defended you from all that you still turned your back on us. It's a good job Alphard is dead or he would be disgusted with what you have become.'

The words lingered in the air for a moment before Cassy stooped down to pick up the silver goblet. Gently, she placed it back on the side.

'You are wrong,' she said easily. 'He was very proud of who I was and for your peace of mind, I feel I should add that I am and will always be eternally grateful for what your family has done for me. I fear I would not be half the person I am if I did not have you there for me when I did. However, times have changed. I am seventeen. I cannot condone your family's plans, but if you should ever change your minds, I will always be willing to hear you out.'

If the air had felt heavy upon entering, it was suffocating now. Malfoy's grey eyes stared with an unknown intensity, something unlike any expression she had ever seen before. There was no movement and for a second, she was unsure he was even breathing. At the same time, a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had been waiting over a year to tell him that, to find the words to say exactly what she meant without dallying through weaving undertones and over-complicated expressions. In the end, she had said it exactly how she had meant it and even better, he had not laughed or punched her as she had often envisioned his response.

Slowly, his lips drew back into a snarl. 'No one wants your sympathies, and no one wants your debt.'

With that, he swept from the kitchen and Cassy was left very much alone with her thoughts.

Although her mind had been close to shutting down for the night, ready to enter a blissful sleep to awake refreshed for her birthday later that day, the trip to the kitchens had very much awakened it. It was not guilt or sadness that kept her staring blankly at the red canopy above, but rather useless, nagging thoughts and ridiculous imaginary scenarios her brain conjured in an effort to stave off boredom and curiosity, two of her biggest downfalls and greatest motivators. It was not until past three o'clock that she finally drifted to sleep and it was regretfully early that she found herself being shaken awake.

'C'mon, Cassy,' sounded Hermione's very much unwanted voice in her ear. 'Get up.'

She pulled the covers over her head.

'It's almost eight o'clock.'

For a second, Cassy did not move and it was as though her lungs had forgotten how to inflate at all. She bolted upright. Her hair stuck up in a thick, tangled mess as it did most mornings, her eyes were unusually wide for the early hour and she rarely awoke with her heart racing, but that morning was a true exception. She was late.

'I need to get ready,' she said to herself as she clambered out from beneath the scarlet duvet. She had to be gone by nine o'clock.

Hermione sat back on her own bed. 'Do you want me to go and fetch you some toast or something?'

'Yes, please,' said Cassy hurriedly while she rummaged for her hairbrush beneath all the Alchemy notes she had lazily dumped in her trunk the night before.

She did not bother to look up to sneer at Hermione's amused expression when she left. All her efforts were concentrated on her hair and between untangling the black locks, she urgently double-checked all of her notes for her presentation were still in the bedside table where she had left them. The pile of gifts at the end of her bed lay forgotten and the dormitory room door shut forty-five minutes later without so much as a glance at them.

It seemed ridiculous to dress so well for what was going to be a twenty-minute radio interview and a reading of a short piece she had written, but it was less for the host and more for the people around him. It was professional to appear ready for company, whether the public would see her or not, so she dressed as she would had she been meeting a journalist, or even a perspective colleague. That, and she had a very important meeting to attend before she even arrived at the station and she would be damned if she did not look like she deserved to be there.

The dress ended at her knees; floor-length was too formal, it was not a dinner party she was attending and she was young, supposed to be full of innovative ideas and yet not childish, so black was the chosen colour. It had sleeves to her elbows, sheer and decorated with black embellishments. Her shoes were red, high enough to make her more imposing and yet low enough to comfortably walk in; it would not do to clumsily approach, let alone fall down.

It seemed as though her carefully planned attire looked the part, for as she reached the bottom step of the staircase Harry grinned madly. She quickly checked her neck for any loose strands from the French twist as he approached, smiling just slightly when he pulled her hand away and slipped his fingers between hers.

'Ready?' he asked.

'Ready,' she said, smirking.

'Good luck,' said Neville, 'not that you'll need it.'

'I'm sure it'll be great,' said Ginny.

'We'll all be listening, so just stick to your script at it will be excellent,' assured Hermione.

Cassy raised an eyebrow. 'You all make it sound like I'm nervous. You are the ones who are afraid!'

'Someone has to be,' joked Neville.

Hogwarts was not used to seeing someone dressed for any real occasion, or at least, one who did so in the morning with no occasion apparent to the rest of the student body. There were many stares and a few questions as Cassy and Harry walked down to the Entrance Hall. Midway down, it seemed Harry had had quite enough of the stares; his hand moved from hers to around her waist and if there were not so many curious looks, Cassy would have laughed.

'I'll be listening at one,' promised Harry and kissed her firmly. Several whistles echoed.

'I hope you will not be too bored,' she teased. 'I will see you later. Half-eight.'

In a matter of seconds, Cassy had vanished from Hogwarts through the same Floo connection she had used every other time she had needed to make a quick exit. The green flames licked her ankles, cold and bright, and the colours of each passing connection twirled and flurried before her eyes. Suddenly, the turning stopped and the world ground to a halt. The vast array of colours were replaced with darkness, shades of clean greys from the large floor tiles to the painted walls. Rows of seats faced away from the Floo, each one black or white, patterned in turn. The only dash of colour was from the few portraits on the wall, but even they were dark in shades; each face was stern, stiff, and official.

A bright flash of light erupted from her left, but Cassy did nothing more than cast the photographer a sparing glance. There were people behind him, men and women crouched and others tall as they levelled their cameras or scrambled for their quills. They seemed genuinely surprised to see her. She looked ahead and swiftly moved to the two people who had stood upon her arrival.

'Right on time,' said Sirius, not so much as blinking at the bright blasts of light.

'Wotcha,' said Tonks.

Cassy was disappointed to see her hair was still mousy brown. Both Sirius and Tonks had dressed for the occasion. It was the most formal Cassy had ever seen Tonks, with the exception of Alphard's funeral, she supposed, as she wore a mustard yellow dress and higher heels than someone with even Cassy's grace could reasonably manage. Her hair was longer from months of natural growth too, not spiked and yet somehow still slightly dishevelled. Her father, on the other hand, looked very much a Black and dressed in a manner only slightly more formal than usual. His blazer was a deep blue and off-set the steel grey of his eyes into a piercing stare that would have been intimidating if he had stopped smirking long enough.

It was only a few seconds later before the three were seated away from the growing interest of the press. They were tucked away in a little room at the far end of the upper corridor. Light bled in through the shutters of the large window and a desk was stationed in front, unusually long and meticulously neat. Behind it sat a dark-skinned man, tall and thin, who shook each of their hands as they sat. Cassy was in the centre, directly opposite.

The conversation that followed was lengthy. Had Cassy not been raised on lectures and possessed a mind fixated on analysing every detail of nearly everything she came into contact with, she would have struggled to pay attention, let alone follow what the man was saying. It was easy to see how people became tangled in legal discussions, but she was not fooled by his carefully chosen words and pre-practiced monologue. She knew it all already. She had not spent hours each morning analysing political occurrences and questioning every peculiar detail of an article to the point Alphard threatened to mute her and stick her in another room so he could be in peace – and had on one occasion – to be tripped up by her own inheritance agreement.

In the end, she would like to say the man was impressed, if somewhat bemused and irritated by her swift avoidance of anything she did not like. She did not want the Black Family home. The property was Sirius' to keep, though he grumbled at having to have any further association with it. Neither did she want any of the money.

'I have a large inheritance,' she said when Tonks' eyebrows nearly met her hairline.

'Take it,' insisted Sirius. 'I don't need it. I have more than enough already.'

Whether Sirius had enough money to spend the rest of his life unemployed and still comfortably better off than most was not the issue. Cassy saw it as his; he was already giving her his birthright by allowing her the title, she did not need his money too. Sirius, however, wanted his only child to have the best possible security and means to fund her ambitious future plans and would not accept the responsibility of it either. It was that which took the most negotiating and the lawyer sat with his head in his hands, possibly miserable or possibly amused.

'I usually have people arguing over why they should have more money, not trying to push millions of Galleons onto the other,' he commented to Tonks, who snorted.

At long last, and only because Tonks smacked them both, did they agree to have half of the family savings each.

At the end of the meeting, she was finally presented with the official family right. The black band slipped from her finger and was tucked away in a velvet case. Another box was pushed towards her and opened to reveal an unusually white band that curled to encase a single, angular black stone. It shrunk upon contact with her hand, snuggly circling her finger. The large rock glimmered against her pale skin, looking all the darker for it, formidable and intimidating, difficult to miss and strangely heavy. Each flex of her hand renewed the weight and reminded her of the responsibility she now bore, the one she had yearned to collect for months and the one had she been asked to hold at eleven, she would have refused.

It seemed strange, she contemplated as she memorised each ridge and every curve of the ring, that the position she found herself in at seventeen was so different from the one she had imagined even a year earlier. If one was to ask Cassy at eleven-years-old what she anticipated she would be it would have been a simple reply, top of her class with a job lined up in the Ministry through Lucius that she would work at for a few years upon graduation before moving on to more interesting things with sufficient connections of her own to call upon. At thirteen it would have been slightly more pessimistic, the threat of her wayward criminal father over her head would force her to work particularly hard to get where she thought she could be proud to be, perhaps even taking a few years longer to reach it, whatever it may have been. At fifteen, she was depressed, and at seventeen she sat with an unreasonable responsibility now entrusted to her; a self-made responsibility, not that of Wizengamot, but one to the public, to her friends and remaining family. She had plans she had to fulfil as a duty she assigned and designed for herself that she knew only she could do.

When Sirius had first met his daughter after his miraculous and desperate escape from Azkaban, he had not known what to make of her. The first point he had noticed was her undeniable resemblance to her mother, from Jane's large eyes to her lips, though in the early days he had not seen them smile much for Cassy seemed to exist in a state of forced indifference whenever he saw her. Her eyebrows were a bit thinner than her mother's, the colour was wrong too and when she scowled he did not see a woman who was ready to set fire to the earth for recompense, but instead he saw Regulus, he saw himself. It was the same when she smiled, Remus had told him when they had gone on the run some months later. When she truly smiled it was his smile, wide, toothy and wolfish, though she tried to hide it often and would duck her head instead. It had been a relief to know that after everything she had taken after her parents and was not a victim of her upbringing, even if he had to admit both he and Jane were somewhat self-destructive and arrogant and he was not wholly willing to say his daughter had not obtained those traits too.

It had been hard work to build a relationship between them. Neither had had the best family support growing up. They were pessimistic, jaded from expectation and loss, too uncertain to really dive into the long-lost, or perhaps never really established, father-daughter relationship. Hope had been alive in everything he had done, though, for it was only a few days into the summer before her fifth-year that Sirius had met Tonks, his dear cousin Andromeda's only child. Lively, clumsy, full of bad jokes and ever-changing appearance. She was fun. Cassy liked her, relied on her as family, and so Sirius had not given up hope that he could turn everything around. He was very glad they both persevered in their awkward, uncertain ways.

For Tonks, their friendship came easily. It might have helped that she had found Cassy at a difficult point in her life, but just at a time she would have shut everyone out she had effortlessly managed to work her way into her life, however reluctantly the younger girl accepted it. She knew from Alphard's tales that she was not as she presented herself: calm, calculating, and cold. She was all those things, but so much more and Tonks could not help but smile as she watched her young cousin sign the dotted line that officially held her as the Black Family Head. She was too much like family to be a friend in the end, too much like a sister to be a cousin.

Sirius was grinning too, an unusual shine in his eye.

When Cassy turned to him, the paperwork finally all finished, she held his stare for only a brief moment. The shine was not one she had seen in a while; it was pride.

Suitably embarrassed by that revelation, Lady Cassiopeia Black had them both thrown from the room. The next part of her induction was clarification of her expected duties, her votes and vetoes, the anticipated public image – an aspect she was anticipating was going to be viewed with much concern after that afternoon – and the general practises of the court. She knew them all, of course, and the woman who was introducing it glared at every pedantic correction and complex question of situations she asserted had never happened in the history of the courts – Cassy knew otherwise, she had read about it.

Lunch in Birmingham city centre was the next task of the day. They emerged from the Floo network and into a busy connection centre under the banner of 'London central' into a hectic series of fireplaces and cramped and turning lines of waiting travellers. Not a single one of them knew how to navigate the bustling city, but after following Tonks' badly written instructions, they emerged into the wizarding quarter only slightly harassed. Whilst they debated who was ruder, residents of Birmingham or of London, the three found a small restaurant tucked away in one of the back streets. The waitress almost tripped over herself at the sight of them, yet they were seated with little fuss and the few other occupants did not even seem to notice then.

'Have you sorted out things with Mundungus?' asked Tonks as the waitress handed them menus.

'Not yet. I have not had the opportunity to speak to him face to face and it is not the type of information I feel I should put in a letter in case it's intercepted,' said Cassy, slightly frowning.

'Mundungus?' queried Sirius and Cassy gave him an abridged version of events that omitted Harry partially strangling him. Sirius gave a small frown in return. 'I don't really care if he wants to loot rubbish, but I don't throw away the silverware, it's useful – if just for annoying Snivillus when he comes around. He disdains everything in that house, particularly if it has the family crest on it. Sometimes I put teaspoons in his pocket as a little reminder of me for later.'

Tonks snorted. She turned to Cassy, her menu folded on the table. 'Speaking of memories, what are you doing to commemorate turning the big one-seven, then?'

Cassy shook her head carelessly. 'I'm not. I have nothing planned. Hogsmeade visits are still banned from the incident.'

'Get a tattoo,' said Tonks. 'I got one for my birthday of a badger for Hufflepuff. My mum went mental, but seeing as Sirius has a ton of tattoos I don't think he'll care.'

'I got one when I was seventeen too,' said Sirius. He then grimaced. 'Not somewhere I recommend getting one, but when you are being cheered on and half-drunk then it seemed like a good idea.'

Tonks laughed and Cassy tried desperately to stop than thought going any further.

'These are both very valid reasons not to get one,' she said.

'What's wrong with a badger?' asked Tonks, affronted.

Cassy slid her eyes towards Sirius and he gave her the same dubious stare back. They burst into laughter as Tonks threw her hands across her chest and loudly proclaimed Hufflepuff was the best house. Not to be outdone, Sirius spoke over her, listing every reason she was wrong and why Gryffindor was, in reality, the greatest house of all. When the waitress came back with their drinks, the two quietened and missed the dubious stare of her brown eyes. Their outfits were hardly appropriate for the casual style of the restaurant and some of the other occupants had noticed them too now because of their noise. Cassy herself had received many intense and curious looks, each passed over with a cold, distance gaze that fluttered up the walls and lingered on each sign and poster with mild forced interest. Her disinterest only caused more open stares to those who recognised them. She should be in school, the expressions told her, the suspicion of the three of them only having risen from the nosy and intrusive ideas that she should not be anywhere else.

The meal was edible. It was not badly cooked, though the meat was overdone and too greasy for her tastes, but there had been better places to eat in the city, she was certain. Half-way through lunch, Sirius reached beneath the table and clicked open the case he had brought with him to house the transfer papers. Carefully, he peered around the room. Unnecessary, of course, Tonks had already silently cast a notice-me-not charm when the food had arrived.

A long, rectangular box was set in front of Cassy.

'Your birthday present,' said Sirius. 'I have some other bits for you, but this is the main one. The rest can wait.'

Taking that as an invitation to tear away the shining purple paper, Cassy took the present and did just that. A blue velvet box was reveled. The silver clasp was pulled open and within it were two knives of ten inches long. The handles were ornate with intricate carvings shaping them, expertly building a scene around embedded opals and milky-white moonstones. The handles were white, the blades were white, though they glimmered in the noon Sun like pure silver.

'I thought given your interest in werewolves and your other weird and dangerous hobbies, it would be useful,' said Sirius as she held a blade up to the light of the window. 'They can cut through almost anything, virtually indestructible.

'Goblin made?' she queried.

'Of course. The stones are for protection and clarity too. I had quite an issue getting it commissioned. The goblins are in two minds about wizards now with a war on,' he said.

'Brilliant.' Cassy waved the knife and cut straight through the glass in front.

* * *

A sedentary lifestyle had left Mr Alex Parker somewhat rounder than he really ought to have been, his broad shoulders suggested he was a man never destined to be thin like Harry or Ron, but he had clearly spent more time in his chair at his control panel than he perhaps should have. His dark hair was slightly receding despite being a little more than over thirty-years-old at most and in replacement of that he had spawned a long, ginger beard that almost entirely obscured his neck. Although he smiled and his cheerful tones were familiar from his popular radio hosting, it was the first time Cassy had ever actually had a face to put to the voice.

His face matched his voice well enough, when it was not locked in a half-disguised expression of wariness that occasionally renewed itself. His mood altered between genuinely interested in her and delight at how amenable she was to speak of herself, to nervous and sometimes irritated when she steered the conversation skilfully away from his initial question. Part way through his introductory talk, he seemed to finally decide to acknowledge that there were things she would not speak about; it only jolted him when she willingly brought forward Alphard's death into the conversation.

'As soon as he heard of the attacks, he came to find me. He fought against the Death Eaters who blindly launched their curses into the fleeing crowds, because he knew that despite my surname, the immunity that one would think it would bring, it would mean nothing to them. They would not pick and choose their victims in that battle, so he came for me. In the end, he died for me too, because had he not tried to ensure I was safe he would not have been injured and he would not have died,' she said calmly, collectedly. The brief pauses as she gathered her words for her next sentence only built the tension of the reveal. Each gap sounded like emotion, a pause of regret that in some ways it was, but she was far too hardened to the idea of his death to become tearful at the mention of it. No one else could see her though, save Mr Parker who watched her with open sympathy for the first time.

The strength of her conviction came across in her tone though. No small pauses could remove the calm and accepting quality of her voice. She was careful not to sound calculating, she needed to sound certain yet conversational, approachable and distant all at once. Above the people and still for the people. If was a difficult balance to manage and she could not be sure if she managed it until she could hear her interview back. She would be lying if she did not admit she had extensively researched the most successful speeches given, magical and muggle.

All Mr Parker had to do was to introduce the key sentence, a little line that allowed her speech to begin with no formal introduction. Momentarily, her eyes slipped shut before she opened them again and fixed them on a blank point on the wall in front as though addressing a crowd instead of one man. She began:

 _Fifteen-years ago, Britain faced a similar threat to the one which plagues its streets today. The same man is behind the disappearances, the terror in the streets, and the panic in the hearts of the Nation's citizens, but the threat is not the same._

 _It is merely similar because of the people behind it, the details are different. The threat many will remember facing has grown. Fifteen-years of waiting in the shadows has not weakened the plots and plans of these individuals, but strengthened them. The world has moved forward and people have made efforts to reclaim their lives from the tragedies that befell them in the last war. Those who clung to their Master's tailcoat and eagerly waited for the return of Lord Voldemort have not sat idly by, they rallied themselves and I have no doubt they have learnt from their past mistakes whilst in these shadows._

 _1970 began with disappearances. It began with denials. This war has begun the same way when the Ministry refused to acknowledge the sings so blatant, so obvious that it was as though the Dark Lord wished for them to be seen. The shadows grew with the failure to truly dismantle the Death Eater web. The Dark Mark does not make itself, but just as in 1970 it was ignored and brushed aside as a silly prank, a joke by an individual so cruel as to impale the Brooke family on the walls of the chapel as they celebrated their son's wedding to a Muggle. For years tragedies like that were brushed aside and it was only when people began to demand answers and security did anyone stand and acknowledge the unusual case. The Brooke family were the official beginning of the first war, a war than had been ongoing for decades._

 _This war will not progress slowly. It will not be allowed the same slow pace the last war had. Lord Voldemort does not have to tread carefully to hold his early position, to maintain allies and keep his position hidden any longer. His servants were dutifully waiting, they are at his side, ready to continue the terror that reigned in 1981 before his fall that fateful night. They were allowed to live freely in the shadows of society and are beginning to emerge, undeterred from unenforced punishments._

 _If oppression is to be fought then there must be a fight. If anyone wishes to maintain their liberties and lives then I urge them to do what they can now. Voldemort has no equals. He will not take mercy on anyone because they are a Pure-Blood, or because they serve him with all the fear in their heart. He will kill_ you _when_ you _become obsolete. When he has no need for you, you will die. If you speak out of turn within his totalitarian system, then you will be sure to be punished –imprisonment, torture, death. Your families will die at his hands too, perhaps for a mistake you made, or for one simple one of their own. His eyes and ears will be everywhere. Do not allow it to get that far. Prevent this. Stop the shadows growing and spreading their tainted hands on your rights._

 _There is no neutrality in this war. You are either with him, or against him and I urge you to stand tall and fight for your freedoms, the liberties you and your children have enjoyed these last fifteen-years, for Voldemort will not allow you to freely associate with whom you please. The Muggleborns many of you know and love will be purged, those with sympathies will be killed, half-bloods with Muggle family will have to watch as he destroys your lives as he rids the country of non-magical humans. Men, woman, and children. Look at your own child, your sibling, and friend. Look at them and think what it would mean if they were the ones being targeted for death. Would you not want someone to help you? Or would you be content that when a knock sounds and the Death Eaters come for them that your neighbours and friends sit quietly in their homes because they are afraid to act? Would you allow them to take away that person? To interrogate and kill them? Or would you fight?_

 _If everyone chose to fight when and where they could, Lord Voldemort would not have a chance to reinstate his hold over society. If you fight now, you will not have to fight later because the war will be won by the efforts of the many and not the few. When I was sixteen-years-old, Lord Voldemort approached me and asked me to join him. I refused. I said I would rather die, because I cannot stand in front of my friends, in front of children, or neighbours, and kill them because of their blood. It took strength I did not know I had until that moment to do it, but I knew if I said anything less than I would be supporting his ideals. Even if I were to stand idly, I would be allowing others to die so needlessly, so unfairly, so cruelly, that I could not do it. It is frightening to think of what might happen to me now, but I am not truly afraid. To do nothing would be far worse. The fear you feel is real and so it that of everyone around you, which is why you must work together._

 _I am not asking you to fight in the streets. I am imploring you to cooperate with those seeking to keep this country, to keep you, safe and ensure your liberties. Do what you can when you can. Do not associate with those you think might be Death Eaters and report those who may be swiftly. We must assume the Ministry is going to take responsibility for the official investigations of such allegations. This is an institute we must assume has the best intentions at heart and because of that, I say this to the Minister of Magic: Do not think that pretending to act is the same as action. Do not think that saying what the people wish to hear is the same as listening. Do not make the mistakes you predecessors made. It is better to admit mistakes and amend them, than to allow them to fester like old wounds on the outskirts of society, in the shadows they so blindly ignored, for they shall never truly heal._

Mr Parker had been watching Cassy so intently during her speech, she was uncertain if he had heard her words at all. For a moment, he did not move. Her words resonated around them and it was only when he seemed to have finished processing it all that he shifted his weight from his elbows and sat back in his chair. She was supposed to say what she wished to and be wrapped up no more than five minutes later, but the time came and went and it was not until a further twenty-five minutes had gone that she was finally allowed from the room. Mr Parker shook her hand, though he said nothing. His grip was firm and his eyes remained fixed on her intensely as he finally said it was an honour to meet her.

Sirius and Tonks had moved from the waiting room downstairs and lingered midway up a turning staircase. The press had invaded the bottom floor. With a faint pop, the three vanished right then and there.

* * *

The gossip mill of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry never ceased to surprise and amuse Cassy. Not only had word spread of the radio broadcast, but it seemed half the school knew exactly where it was that she would be returning through. Dinner was several hours ago, there had been no reason for so many people to linger in the entrance hall and up the marble staircases and yet they were. The stone door shifted behind her and vanished indistinguishably against the wall, leaving her with the crowd and nowhere to go but up.

It was not silent. No one was waiting for a word from her, but despite the many quickly moving mouths of friends talking to friends, the expressions and tones rang louder than the words themselves. Many looked at her as though she was deranged, others as though simply meeting her eyes would make them a guilty party in her madness, and then there were those like Ernie Macmillian and Susan Bones, who were grinning so widely from the doorway to the basement that it looked as though their smiles might actually injure them.

It took a moment of stubbornly scanning the scattered students for the least invasive escape route for Cassy to spot Dean and Seamus leant over the railings above. They waved madly at her before they hurried through the crowd, parting it easily with their unexpected urgency. Cassy took a step to meet them.

'We heard the whole thing,' exclaimed Dean after he jumped the last step to the ground.

'Pretty ballsy, especially the end bit,' added Seamus. 'We were on our way back from the lake when we noticed the crowd, thought we'd stop and see what the commotion was about.'

'Apparently, someone broadcast the interview through the Great Hall. Loads of people turned up to listen, apart from the Slytherins,' explained Dean. They began to push their way up the staircases once more. 'It was on repeat not long ago, everyone here's talking about it.'

'Not that they'll tell you that. Some of them seem to think that if they speak to you You-Know-Who will appear and strike them down. Some of them are petrified, others want to fight you,' said Seamus, laughing with Dean when Cassy turned to give him a disdainful glare.

'How did word even get out about it?' asked Cassy. She had fully expected it to be a written transcription that the school obtained a few days after the interview when it was inevitably mentioned in tomorrow's Daily Prophet. By the sounds of it, most of the school had heard.

'Well,' said Dean slowly, 'Ginny told us this morning about it. Ron then told Lavender, she told Pavarti, who told her sister Padma, and just about everyone else in the school. You know what they're like.'

Cassy smiled politely at their enthusiasm. She did not really want to talk about the speech right then. It seemed counter-productive to speak and then ignore all of her efforts, but it was because it had been such an effort that she rather wanted to sit and enjoy the remainder of her birthday without being stared at and talked about. She steeled her features and fixed them into a look of mild amusement, a familiar smile and nothing more, everyone who looked upon her as they passed would see nothing more than her collected expression. It was easy to fake. It was so familiar she did not even have to think about whether it looked forced; it was now as natural as breathing, and it was fortunate too for not everyone seemed pleased with her. She would deal with that tomorrow, the day after and perhaps for every day of the war and beyond – assuming she lived that long – but right then she rather wanted to find her friends, unveil the bottle of Firewhisky Sirius had handed her before she left, and be told what a moron she was for calling the country to arms on her birthday while they grinned and mocked how old she had become all at the same time.

The long day sorting through legal documents and speaking of things she never would normally have approached had taken a slight toll on her, a gentle one, a faint push on her shoulders as though gravity had increased just a fraction, her eyes a slight bit heavier than usual, but nothing severe. Most of all, she had realised how tedious it was to speak of herself. She did not fathom how others did it so often. The endless useless facts and opinions that hardly related to the conversation were exhausting. Give her a challenge and she could speak for hours, it was not as though she was an interesting person to discuss, not in her own mind, at least.

Still, she found the energy to genuinely smile as Harry swooped down for a kiss when the portrait hole opened.

'Wonderful speech, Milady,' he said. 'You're back early.'

He seemed to sense her wariness as she muttered for him to ask the others to be prepared to leave to somewhere quieter, he did not ask any more about it. She slipped beyond the enquiring and boastful voices of her housemates. They were more eager to speak with her than those in the entrance hall, frustratingly so almost, as several refused to allow her to pass easily. It was not long after that that Hermione and Ginny arrived to collect her still unopened birthday gifts. If they were to leave, they demanded she, at least, bring them with her. When she returned to the common room, she did so in comfier clothing - blue skinny jeans and a long black and white striped shirt. A woollen jumper was draped over her arm, the alcohol hidden beneath it. Her friends were all huddled near the door and when they emerged into the refreshingly cool air of the corridor, Neville revealed that he had sent word to Luna through the DA coins to meet; it had become somewhat of a habit since they had been redesigned earlier that year to send her messages like that, it made everyone meeting much easier.

They met her on the seventh floor outside the Room of Requirement. The inside had shifted as it always did. A warm hearth, dim lighting and soft seats arranged so everyone could be seen. In the centre of the seats was a table that soon filled with cups and snacks that Plum and Kitsy brought them without so much as a request. A cake appeared too, one they had made themselves, as spectacular as always. Cassy threatened to hex them all if they tried to sing 'Happy Birthday' to her.

Even Hermione did not complain at the presence of alcohol. Ron cheered and the bottle was passed around, thankfully large as everyone helped themselves to more than a few glasses as the night wore on. Old stories cropped up, laughter filled the room at their childhood tales of early magic and their expectations of Hogwarts. Harry had flushed when he had admitted that when Professor McGonagall had gone to fetch Oliver Wood about him joining the team he had thought him to be a stick to beat him with as punishment. Everyone laughed, though Cassy's fingers tightened around her glass momentarily, her smile masking the dangerous flash in her eyes.

She turned teasingly to Hermione. 'You must be shocked with how your school life turned out. You hated me and yet just the other month you proclaimed me your best friend.'

'A terrible mistake,' said Hermione easily. 'Besides, I didn't hate you, I just…'

'Hated her,' finished Neville.

'Your rule-breaking annoyed me back then,' insisted Hermione, shrugging.

'You lectured me for half-an-hour on why I should follow the instructions on repotting a plant,' said Cassy, squinting.

Even Hermione had to laugh at her past self.

'You didn't help your own impression much, you know,' she said. 'You always looked so serious and never did what you were told. I didn't know what to think.'

'You were kind of scary,' agreed Neville, 'but I knew better than to trust your expressions when you brought my bag to me in the hospital wing after Potions that day. You didn't need to at all, so I knew you had to be kind, kinder than anyone else had been to me.' He spluttered at the sight of her dangerously narrowed eyes. 'You're still super scary, obviously!'

Everyone howled with laughter and Cassy's expression lightened as if appeased while she tried not to laugh herself.

Harry reclined into the sofa, shifting Cassy who was leaning heavily into his side. 'That all seems like to like ago.'

It did seem like an age ago. She was surrounded by people she had lived with for six years, mostly. People she saw almost every day of the year and had gone through more than anyone could ever have expected whilst with them. There was something in that, in the challenges they had faced and the adversity they had overcome that made Cassy confident they would endure. They would not fall apart after school, because the bonds built in difficulty were often the strongest of all, and they all knew they had plenty of that behind them and even more to come. She cringed inwardly at her own sentiment and wondered if two glasses of Firewhisky was quite enough. It did not take much longer to realise that Neville was hopeless at holding his alcohol and Hermione and Ron's tongues loosened under the influence. Neither said anything disastrous, but amidst the jokes and drinks, they had begun to speak to one another normally again. Any tension they had forced aside for the sake of Cassy's birthday had dissolved in the spirit of the occasion; had Cassy known that would have happened, she would have smuggled a bottle in two weeks ago.

She caught Ginny's eye and the two burst into giggles. Their eyes had met with mirroring looks of disgusted disbelief at the sight of Neville's incoherent ramblings and Luna's unbelievably coherent chatter, and of Ron and Hermione's easy exchanges.

'They all need to get a grip,' said Ginny flatly, downing the rest of her glass.

'I think it's funny,' commented Harry, grinning.

'One bottle between seven people shouldn't have that effect on anyone,' protested Ginny, but Cassy and Harry merely laughed.

* * *

 **I would like to say a massive thank-you to _Love Remedy, Izaranna, missfites, and Xenocanaan_ for your reviews. They certainly brightened up my days. **

**So, this is Cassy's birthday. It ended up being the longest chapter of the year so far. A lot happened to be fair, we had crying Hermione, crying Hagrid, Cassy and Harry flying, Cassy and Draco's conversation, Cassy's inheritance, the speech, their little party at the end; it was in danger of being much, much longer, so it was cut down as not to drag.**

 **The next chapter will probably be out in a similar amount of time, though certainly no longer than a month. I am terribly busy and stressed trying to sort my life out, so I'll update as soon as I can.**

 **Please review as always.**

 **Thanks!**


	14. Annoying admirations

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XIV: Annoying admirations**

There was an endless stream of post the next morning at breakfast. It began to arrive at the window in drips and drabs through the night, though Plum had taken to collecting it by the third time the sixth year girls were awoken by continuous tapping, but the morning brought a fresh wave of written opinions and some even voiced through Howlers to the Gryffindor table. After the second Howler began to steam and threatened to explode as the last did, Cassy and her friends scooped up her post and headed to the Gryffindor common room to dump the screaming letters in the fire while Luna waited outside, merrily chatting to the Fat Lady. Once the words became mangled as flames licked the pages and broke the enchantment, they then set off towards the library in search of a quiet spot to sort through the ridiculous number of letters they each held.

No small gratitude at the numerous responses belonged to the Daily Prophet, which had managed to type and publish word for word the entire interview overnight. If they had not, Cassy was very doubtful she would have received half as many letters. Reading each letter was a tedious affair, mainly because while Cassy was happy to scan for the gist of the more standard letters, collecting general likes and dislikes of the interview, the others were quite intent to read them word for word and repeat indignantly any insults or, on occasion, too-friendly comments that she ignored.

As it was Sunday morning, the library was thankfully quiet. They did not see a single person as they bickered over the best and most well-hidden area to sit nor did they once see Madam Pince on her usual rounds by mid-morning.

Cassy, Harry, Neville, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were only about a third of the way through the pile when Luna held up a thick envelope with a shimmering golden seal on the back. Long threads of ribbon hung from the back.

Cassy's eyes flicked up as her peripheral vision caught sight of the unusual envelope.

'It's from the Ministry,' said Harry. The envelope was of significantly better quality and the ribbon was new, but he would recognise the seal that had adorned his expulsion letter anywhere.

Taking it, she turned it over in her hands and opened it carefully, the seal still fully intact. After she scanned the first few lines, she emitted a strange noise caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. Rufus Scrimgeour, a man she held no faith in, wanted to meet with her.

'Oh my, I have become popular,' she muttered mockingly to herself.

The letter was set aside. She knew what he wanted and it would be something she would be entirely unwilling to oblige with. Security and self-interest were his only motivators, but even the former gave out to his own preservation. As long as the Ministry of Magic appeared to be doing all they could against Voldemort then they would argue that was fine, if Cassy could endorse their actions after her urge to the public to act then they had another reason to order civility and cooperation from the discontent masses. Cassy did not agree, though. They had a lot to answer for and she would not compromise herself this early on by aligning with a very faulted Ministry.

By lunch, the post was gathered into an expanded school bag and stuffed beneath Cassy's four-poster bed to be looked at another time. Plum and Kitsy were routinely dropping by more letters to add to the pile, and the occasional parcel, which she was pointedly not opening with the exception of one where liquid began to seep through the paper. It was a house-elf head with no note. Hermione was very nearly sick.

Late in the afternoon, the stone spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office opened and Cassy passed the eagle on the way to the door. Three firm knocks against the wood were met with only a brief pause, before the aged yet strong voice of Professor Dumbledore called out, muffled, for her to enter. When she did, he smiled and the book before him slid shut, cast aside as his fingers looped together beneath his chin. She smiled gently back and took a seat as his blue eyes sparked.

'Tea?' he asked, his hands already moving to pour a cup from the floral china pot that appeared suddenly.

'Thank-you,' she said, taking the porcelain cup.

A smile pulled more at his wrinkled face. His eyes quickly glanced at the sideboard on his left and Cassy's eyes followed. Amongst the mass of whirling objects, tall and small, thin and large, sat a perfectly ordinary enough radio made of dark wood and curved with two small dials on the front.

'I listened to your interview,' he said. 'I thoroughly enjoyed it.'

'It was just introductory, really. I have a lot more planned, but I thought if I began too heavily then people will accuse me of being a war-monger or a radicalist. I have already received many letters telling me I only evoke fear,' she said simply.

'Oh, I quite agree,' he said, sipping his own tea. 'Allow your words to sink into their minds and then begin again. If people sense your confidence is too much too early then no one will ever take to you.' He smiled at his drink, eyes drifting into a vacant stare for a brief moment. 'I remember when I was young and trying to find where I belonged. It is not easy, but if you continue as you have, you will do just fine, both in politics and in life.'

Nostalgia, identified Cassy warily. She was certain that was the undertone in his voice, but it seemed unusual, misplaced almost, from who it came from. Professor Dumbledore was a man of the future, he always seemed to be plotting five steps ahead of everyone else and yet, there was no mistaking a ghost in his eyes. The thought passed Cassy by easily, a fleeting observation that promised a small amount of consideration later, but the expression that had overtaken his face was not so transient. The line of thought was reeled back to the forefront of her mind.

'I was wary at first when I saw the interview you had conducted with Rita Skeeter. I was almost quite cross, it was a dangerous message for someone so young to voice. Then I saw you against your father and I knew that you knew exactly what you were doing. I ask you to forgive me, I am an old man, tied by sentiment and worry for those who pass these halls,' he said softly.

'I'm flattered you were worried, Sir,' she said, only partially joking. She was surprised. For the most part, she certainly slipped beneath his watchful eyes unless in trouble and even then she usually had Harry with her to absorb the attention. To her astonishment, he did not smile back as he normally would at a little jest like hers and instead frowned, his fingers tightening around his cup for a second. Cassy was careful not to look down, though; his hand was withered and black, stiff and fixed in one clawed position, just as Harry had described.

'I think you sell yourself short.'

Cassy refrained from snorting, but she did glance at him with wide eyes and a pursed smile that made her need to laugh obvious.

'I am being serious. You underestimate yourself and you cannot afford to do that in the position you have forced yourself into. You see your intelligence and your ability to manipulate and forge useful connections, but you do not see your other qualities with so much clarity,' he said and Cassy suddenly felt as though she was a child being chastised by the heavy tone, though the words were intended to be kind. 'I knew a boy once who was very intelligent, one of the greatest minds to have ever passed through these halls, he was cunning and could have a hundred people at his feet simply by smiling; sadly, there was very little else to that boy. You reminded me of him when I first saw you so long ago, eyes narrowed and alert, surveying your fellow students and mapping your path before you even sat on the stool. Then you befriended the most nervous student I have seen for many years, struck up a friendship with Harry, found peace with Miss Granger, and built a place for yourself amongst people so unlike what you present yourself to be.'

He sipped his tea absently.

'I agreed to have you speak on behalf of the Order because of that, because of those differences in what one would expect and who you truly are. You never expect more from someone than they can give, you expect them to give their best, but be it their best at their physical and mental peak, or the best they can do at their very worst, you accept it.

'You could easily have been someone very different, your upbringing could have led you on a very different path, but you held strong, wavered but did not fall, even though no one could have blamed you for it. You fought for that. You fight all the time to better yourself because you want to, not for any reason besides doing what you can do and yet all the while you maintain behaviours grounded in your unwavering morals. You are mistaken, Cassy, if you think I do not think much of you, because I do. I think you are a fine young woman and you will do yourself proud, and that is why I am entrusting you with the press.'

Cassy stared. Softly, she cleared her throat and found herself caught somewhere between chastised and praised in an odd mixture of emotions. She sat silently, uncertain of his words. She mulled them over in her mind, trying to find the truth in them, if there was any to be found instead of a sentimental compliment. She thought it rather wrong, in the end. It was her friends who had always accepted her at her best and worst when they really need not. Besides, she hardly considered herself hard on herself, any criticism she had was a lesson to improve upon. Self-reflection was always needed.

As though sensing her confusion and discomfort, the Headmaster continued, 'Please forgive an old man for his ramblings. I am afraid lately I have been somewhat stressed and nostalgic.'

'It's fine, Sir. It is always useful to know how others perceive me,' she said evenly. 'It will be useful for the scrutiny I am receiving over my interview. The world is a stage, after all.'

'Ah, yes,' said Professor Dumbledore, smiling. 'I suppose that is why you have visited?'

'It is,' she said. 'I received a curious invite to speak to the Minister of Magic, although I must say I am inclined to decline at the present time.'

'A generous offer,' he said with faux revere and Cassy smiled.

'Most,' she agreed.

'I suppose he would have an interest in the new Lady Black following how poorly Sirius was treated by his predecessor. Mind you, I fear you will not hear that title much in these halls,' he said.

Cassy smiled, her eyes narrowed. 'No, only from the Slytherins who seem to think it a jeer.'

He chuckled and the pair began to drift into a discussion on the feedback she had had and what Professor Dumbledore himself had heard from his associates. They even decided for good measure to agree that it would really be best if Cassy concentrated on her school work in this tremulous time and declined the offer of tea with the Minister of Magic, at least, that is what she would say to him.

* * *

Besides the occasional congratulations – Ernie had told her twice how excellent he thought it was – and the odd sneer, it was difficult to gage the true reaction of her message. To many, she remained as she was and as she always had been. She remained the unapproachable girl who rarely spoke unless spoken to and when she did it was usually as some form of clever remark or insult, sometimes both at once depending on her audience. That did not mean she did not garner any unusual attention. For one, her actions had elevated her above her normal standard of unapproachable and that meant that suddenly there were boys trying to speak to her and catch her attention. She pointedly ignored them, although occasionally she could not help but raise an eyebrow when they would do something particularly stupid.

Besides that, she had to wait until the following Wednesday to see the full extent of her speech beyond her own House. Ernie was trying desperately to get Padma Patil to engage in conversation with him outside in the corridor as they and Cassy waited for their Alchemy lesson to begin. Patil was trying her hardest not to engage with him, his continuous chatter appeared to be waring on her last nerve as he exhausted the topic of the debate club. Patil was not as talkative as her sister, though she had warily greeted Cassy upon her arrival, so her silence, Cassy assumed, was more to do with Ernie's never ceasing stream of words rather than her presence.

He remained stubbornly talking when Zabini and Daphne arrived. Neither looked at him as they leant against the stone wall idly. It was not until minutes later that Cassy flicked her eyes towards them and Zabini was too slow to look away, his eyes hard and concentrating in a way that was impossible to have been a mere glance. Sensing the tense connection the two then had, he spoke, 'You have not changed anyone's minds.'

Ernie stopped talking.

'It was not my intention to change the minds of the decided, only to inspire the idle and the fearful. Those who believe they can simply be neutral need to know they cannot be,' said Cassy calmly and coolly.

If Zabini noticed the jab at his family's alliance status in the last war, and she knew he had, he did not react at all. 'You expect too much.'

'I expect people to listen to what I say, to do so by their own prerogative and to build opinions upon being informed,' she said.

'What you speak of is propaganda,' accused Daphne.

'So is the promise of torturing a family to death if an individual refuses to join, but Voldemort still does that and to be honest, I think my brand of propaganda something to be less affronted by,' retorted Cassy civilly. 'Besides, one speech is hardly enough to gage a true response on, perhaps wait until the Christmas season before you feel the need to intervene and warn me of my follies, yes?'

'You're doing another one?' muttered Patil, more to herself than to Cassy.

'No one will take you seriously, not like you want them to,' insisted Daphne coldly. 'You are far too young for anyone to think you know best.'

'I do not know best, but I do know better. My age should not be an issue. Voldemort recruits Death Eaters as young as myself because he sees value in them. More than that, at seventeen, we are already assumed to be in the war. My uncle was killed as one of them at seventeen, Eustace Crabbe was killed at eighteen for allowing a single muggle child to escape in a raid, Elizabeth Bones lost her tongue to torture at eighteen for not agreeing to join, Marlene McKinnon's entire family died when she was nineteen. Only a fool ignores and exempts the young from a war when circumstance dictates no such luxury.'

Neither Zabini nor Daphne looked at all moved by her words. Daphne pursed her lips and turned away, but Cassy recognised the thoughtful look on Zabini's face. It was scarcely noticeable, yet she had trained herself to recognise the small nuances in the boy's face in an effort to find peace with him. He was not on her side, not even remotely, but he was thinking about what she had said, which meant, he might just agree with her a little bit.

There was hope for Slytherin yet.

* * *

Though Ron was hardly a permanent fixture to their little group, his absence was noticeable. In the month since he and Lavender became a couple, he had hardly been spotted anywhere near Cassy and her friends and instead usually sat with Dean and Seamus like he did before Dean and Ginny began dating. Sometimes Pavarti would join them, but mostly she appeared horrendously embarrassed by the public displays of affection the two insisted on nearly constantly, so she moved across to the Ravenclaw table most mealtimes to sit with her sister.

Not only had Ginny become increasingly irate with the situation, but Hermione had yet to muster the same courage she had found on Cassy's birthday again and continued to avoid the pair at her own expense. Cassy sincerely hoped she handled Harry's suspected like of Cho Chang better, because while the resentment had bubbled within her and she had stormed off several times with angry outbursts, Hermione was almost unable to be in the same room as either of them, together or apart. More than that, she hoped her jealousy had not been so blindingly obvious.

Far more interesting than Hermione and Ron's ongoing feud, though it had its merits in the snarky, sarcastic comments the two spat at one another, was Neville and Luna's decision to hold their own little Christmas party in place of Professor Slughorn's. It was just to be the two of them, very much alone. They had even announced it, Luna's arm looped with Neville's as she had taken to doing as of late, and it looked much more like they were a moment from announcing their engagement rather than a supposed casual get together. Cassy had almost laughed, but kept her face cool and instead asked them of their plans. Neither knew what they were going to do, but she would wager they would either end up in the greenhouses or at the top of the Astronomy Tower, given they were their favourite places within the castle grounds.

After the conversation Cassy had had with Luna the year before, awkward and uncertain, she was absolutely convinced that Luna returned Neville's glaringly apparent affections. It had been noticeable since the two had first truly met; he had made friends with her quickly, his embarrassment at her quirkiness wore away rapidly to reveal humour and amiable smiles in his fast-found friendship with her. It was a shame they completely different ideas of what the night meant.

'What do people normally do on a date?' asked Luna, smiling.

Cassy grimaced behind her. She and Luna were moving between the shelves of the library, away from Harry and Hermione's heated discussion. Neville was far away down in the greenhouses, thankfully, because it was difficult to think of an excuse to pull Luna away from the group without appearing suspicious to someone. Against her better judgement, she approached Luna anyway when she slipped away to find a book, knowing very well it was not her place but also unable to allow the rare opportunity to escape her. She rather wished she had not bothered.

Oh dear, she thought and blinked slowly when Luna turned to her again.

'Have you asked Neville on a date?' she questioned conversationally, idly reading the faded spines of books on a nearby shelf.

'I thought it would be obvious,' said Luna easily.

It was not, apparently, for Neville was convinced they were going as "just friends".

Cassy said nothing in turn. As they approached the table where their friends still resided, Cassy widened her eyes pointedly towards Harry, silently trying to communicate the potentially dire upcoming revelation between their friends, but he merely frowned back at her and raised a quizzical eyebrow. She stared flatly in return and sighed. She would share with Hermione later then.

'What was – ' began Harry and Cassy's eyes turned sharply towards him, an expression even he could not fail to read. His mouth snapped shut. Then, he said, 'Hermione's just been telling me that she overheard Romilda Vane saying she wants to slip me a Love Potion.'

Cassy's eyes sharpened further.

'It was in the girls' toilets,' said Hermione, frowning. 'She seems to be under the impression that if Harry spent a day with her he would notice how great she is and break up with you.'

'Did she notice you were there?' asked Cassy calmly.

'No, I managed to slip away when they were all giggling,' she said.

'Good. At least, we know what to expect then,' replied Cassy. Most of the girls who fancied Harry still did so, but had moved back in respect for his relationship with Cassy after a rather public kiss in the first Gryffindor Quidditch match. However, it had not escaped her attention that a few had yet to accept the impossibility of them being with him whilst she was around. Romilda Vane often stared at Harry, not as though others did not, but there was always a glint in her eye, one that flickered and changed when she would then meet Cassy's eyes to a gleam of disgust and resentment; two emotions Cassy was very familiar having directed at her.

'There's nothing to worry about, Milady, I wouldn't take anything someone gives me that I don't know where it's been or came from. I learnt that with the Dursleys,' said Harry with an easy shrug. 'And if I do begin acting strangely, you know why.'

Cassy's eyes narrowed again. 'And what exactly does that mean?' War or no war, she could make arrangements to visit the Dursleys.

Harry shrugged. He never really delved into his childhood. Cassy knew bits and pieces, more than probably anyone else knew, but there were still moments when an odd comment would still her mind and her thoughts would then set ablaze with readied anger. He never let her act upon it; he had said something about not wanting her arrested and that it was not worth the effort, what was done was done, but she would very much like the opportunity to see if it was worth the effort for herself. Yet, she never did. Respectfully, she did not comment on his upbringing unless he allowed it, just as he often did not for hers.

As if sensing the dangerous territory and determined to avoid her own anger at his relatives, Hermione changed the topic and the four continued to chat while they completed their homework. Although the weeks had rolled into December and the seasonal excitement had begun to show, the lessons had not slowed down. Homework was still handed out in every lesson with Professor Snape seemingly attempting to give more than ever before in preparation for the winter break. This only increased once the Christmas decorations appeared one morning in the first week of December and his mood seemed to darken further. Everyone was too excited by the prospect of the holidays to really complain, eager to see their families and friends who had been separated for much too long and caught in the tide of tension in the developing war.

They spoke of Christmas on the way back to the common room, ensuring they did not have any overlapping presents for Neville or Ginny, and later Luna when she departed towards her own common room. As soon as the portrait swung open, a mound of dark hair leapt forward. Hands eagerly grasped the front of Harry's jumper; he jolted, caught between stumbling backwards at the sudden force and tilting forward at the sharp tug as the hands drew him down to head height with Romilda Vane.

Cassy stared flatly.

'Romilda,' said Harry, blinking owlishly.

'Hello, Harry,' she greeted brightly. 'I couldn't help but notice that you look a bit tired lately, so I have some Gillywater you could have.'

Hermione snorted.

Harry gently pried her hands from him and smoothed down the patterned front of his woollen top. 'That's nice, but I'm fine, really.'

Vane pursed her lips for a second before she smiled again. 'Okay, but take these chocolates.'

'Ah, no – ' began Harry when she raced to collect a box from a nearby table that was surrounded by girls with eager eyes and smug smiles. His hands were spread in front of his chest in a sign to stop, but Vane simply shoved the colourfully wrapped box into them.

'I insist,' she said. 'My Gran sent them to me, but they have Firewhisky in them and I don't like it. Chocolate supposed to be good for you and I figured you could probably use them with all the pressure you must be under.'

'Er, thanks, well, I best be off to do, er ….' Said Harry, his voice trailing away as he fought for a lie. He slipped beyond Vane and safely around the other side of the room towards were Neville was sat with a thick book open and a look of bewilderment on his face.

Cassy met Vane's eyes with disinterest. She did not like the girl, her indifference had since faded to distaste, though she did not need to know that. She would not allow the other the satisfaction of thinking Cassy might consider her a threat. She was not; she was just a nuisance.

Vane smiled haughtily and once she was gone Cassy turned to Hermione with half-lidded eyes, yet Hermione was not looking at her anymore. When she followed her gaze, she found the twisted forms of Ron and Lavender entangled in an armchair.

'Goodnight, Cassy,' said Hermione briskly, as though it were the early hours of the morning and not merely seven o'clock. She stalked away, her nose high in the air as she pointedly avoided the couple.

Without any more consideration of that failing romance, Cassy turned her attention to her other friends' precarious love-lives. Once again, the little table was only occupied by Neville, even though she had clearly seen Harry seated there not more than a minute before. A quick glance around the common room and she could still not locate him. When she slipped into the seat beside Neville, she asked him where he had gone.

'Upstairs,' he said, stretching his back. 'He said something about Romilda Vane leering at him.'

Cassy resisted the urge to turn and sneer at the girl. She had probably been waiting for him to eat the chocolates and to become completely enamoured with her. It was a good thing that they were aware of her plot, because had he eaten them Cassy would have had a few choice words for Vane when the potion wore off, many of which she was tempted to say anyway. Instead, she plucked a broken quill from the table top and twisted it between her long fingers, seemingly idle despite her irritation.

'What are your plans for Friday with Luna? She was talking to me about it earlier,' she said conversationally.

Neville shrugged. He was once again hunched over and hastily making notes from the textbook.

'Are you going to ask her anything important?' she probed.

'Important?' he repeated distantly.

'You know, something you wanted to tell her for a long time now?' she continued.

'A long time…' he muttered. Suddenly, he jolted upright, round cheeks flushed. 'Oh, oh no. She doesn't think of me that way. It would be a disaster. I mean, she wouldn't laugh at me, but I don't know if she feels that way about anyone, let alone me.'

Sighing heavily, she said nothing more about it. She had promised herself not to interfere; it was when people tried to help relationships that they tended to get worse and she was confident the pair would sort themselves out eventually, even if it seemed like Hermione and Ron would not. She patted his arm.

'Wear something nice, at least,' she said.

Although Neville had been quite certain it was not a date, he had become increasingly worked up about the meeting in the final days of term. He was not the only one who became stressed, however. The homework had piled up, with each teacher insisting a small mound of work had to be completed over Christmas and whilst it would have been fine had it been the one lesson, but every single professor seemed to be under the impression they ran the only class that mattered and so the workload was slowly becoming absurd. Though Cassy had managed to do the Charms and Ancient Rune homework before Friday, it seemed that Professor McGonagall was keen to ensure she was not idle over the holidays and had started the lesson with the assignment of a three-foot long essay on hair dying jinxes.

They had just begun on eyebrows and Harry had charmed himself a garish, canary yellow one and Cassy had dark red eyebrows, deciding against blonde because of the reoccurring thought on how much it would make her look like the Malfoys. Hermione, however, had opted for blonde too, a nicer, more subtle colour than Harry's obnoxious one. Neville's were purple and so far no one had managed to charm them back to normal.

There was a loud shriek and all heads turned to the table behind them. Flaming orange like his hair, Ron had managed to summon himself a dreadful handlebar moustache. Lavender burst into high-pitch giggles and the rest of the class followed suit. Amongst the laughter, however, was a lower laugh, stilted and unkind against the round of good-natured humour surrounding them. Cassy turned, Hermione's face was twisted into a sinister smile, not unlike a satisfied sneer. She was not the only one to notice. Ron's hand flung high into the air suddenly and she wiggled in his seat, his voice annoyingly high in an unflattering but, unfortunately, accurate impression of Hermione.

Sharply, Hermione turned to face the front of the room again. Her brown eyes welled with tears. As soon as the bell rang, she darted from class with her arms full of belongings swiped from her desk. What she could not carry she left behind.

Without missing a beat, Cassy began to gather the remaining items. Harry and Neville moved to help and between them they collected everything that was left. Only a brief sideways glance was given to Ron, resentment evident in Cassy's large eyes. He had the decency to look guilty, but even she could not fault him entirely; Hermione had not made an effort to find any genuine humour in his amusing accident, just spite. They were as bad as one another.

They found her exiting the nearest bathroom. Around her shoulder was Luna's arm; she gently patted her as Hermione wiped the last few stray tears from her eyes. The five were silent for a moment, uncertain of what to say and who should say it. There were many things Cassy wished to mention. She wished they could just stop it and behave normally again. They had always been petty, but the last few weeks had been a new level, an unbearable one that was driving everyone apart in an effort not to pick sides. She saw the issue. It was not as though she could not empathise with Hermione's feelings, she had felt the same jealousy, the same fury and resentment at the sight of two people together that she wanted nothing more to do than rip them apart. Yet, she had tried very hard to conceal it, to be happy for them even though in the end it had turned out to be mostly her imagination anyway. She was not certain Hermione was trying at all.

As it was, Neville took the lead and sighed heavily, his eyebrows dipping low in a mournful stare. 'Can't you two get over this pettiness? It's not proving anything and all it does is hurt you, Hermione.'

Hermione's eyes welled up again. She opened her mouth the reply, but a poorly stifled sob broke through instead. 'I know that,' she chocked. 'I know that, but it's so hard to have Ron shove his relationship in my face all the time. How can he not know that I… I…'

Without waiting for another word, Neville looped his arms around her and she sobbed openly into his shoulder.

Although they received many questioning stares by passing students, any queries were warded away by the severe and unyielding expressions on Cassy and Harry's faces. Neville continued to mutter reassuring little words in her ear even after she had pulled away and Luna only then thought to mention not one of them had corrected their eyebrow colour.

When they finally went to dinner, all coloured correctly, Hermione's eyes were significantly less red, although a wary tiredness was visible on her face. She sniffed as they moved to the far end of the table and passed Ron wordlessly. She breathed deeply and sat beside Cassy, her back unnaturally straight.

'I'll be right back,' said Harry. He slipped his long legs over the bench and strode back down towards the door. They all knew where he was going.

Hermione then swung her legs over the bench too.

'Where are you going?' asked Neville quickly.

'To see Ron,' she said. 'I need – I need to apologise, then maybe after Christmas… we can get back to normal.'

When her back was turned, Cassy held up a hand and Neville halted his ascent. Instead, she fell into step with her silently and halted beside her in time to hear the end of Harry and Ron's conversation.

'Why did you have to go and imitate her for?' growled Harry.

'She laughed at my moustache!' protested Ron.

'So did I. It was the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen,' he retorted.

Ron's face fell just slightly, before it hardened again at the sight of Hermione a few steps away. He said nothing, held her gaze and waited with tensed shoulders for her to say something cruel or to snap and tell him what a fool he had been.

Hermione breathed in deeply. 'Ron, I just want to say I shouldn't have laughed – '

'Won-Won,' came a loud cry.

Hermione halted and all heads turned, aghast at the ludicrous nickname. The wild blonde curls of Lavender flew madly in the air as she bounded towards them. Her hands were outstretched and she gripped Ron's cheeks firmly, planting her lips on his in deep, indecent public kiss. Behind her lingered Pavarti, unable to sit because of her friend's enthusiastic embrace. She cringed and then smiled at Hermione, guilt shining through her dark eyes at having laughed at Ron's imitation earlier.

'Hello, Hermione,' she said.

Hermione's face was emotionless. Fear knotted in Cassy's stomach, twisting around her gut as her instincts demanded she averted the conversation the moment a wide smile stretched the other's lips.

'Hi, Pavarti. Are you going to the party tonight?' she asked.

'No,' said Pavarti sadly. 'You are, though, aren't you?'

'Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight,' she said. A foreign giggle left her lips, so uncharacteristic that had they not witnessed the noise leave her mouth, no one would have suspected it was from her at all.

'McLaggen?' asked Pavarti, eyes wide.

A revolting noise like a plunger breaking away from a sink sounded as Ron detached himself from Lavender in shock. Cassy's insides shuddered in disgust. Outwardly, she did not react, although she had wanted to scowl and sigh at her friend for her awful choice in date. Hermione had not mentioned she was taking McLaggen, she had not even hinted at it, and Cassy could not help but wonder how long that plan had been in motion. They had been so close in repairing the rift between the two as well.

She flicked her eyes back to a stunned Ron and a pouting Lavender, who, try as she might, could not get Ron's attention back to her.

'I do not mean to be rude, but could you two possibly do that less publicly in the future? It's dinner,' said Cassy; she leant on the table beside Dean with a hushed voice as to avoid anyone the embarrassment of fearing being overheard.

Immediately, Ron was scarlet. Lavender sniffed, 'Just because you're frigid doesn't mean I have to be.'

Ron stiffened, Dean gasped, and Seamus coughed into his drink. Hermione and Pavarti fell silent.

She had not offered the same courtesy Cassy had offered her, she was not quiet in her snappy retort. Her voice had mingled with the rest of the hall, calling no particular attention to the group, though Cassy was not listening to see if anyone might have heard. Her ears buzzed with anger. Slowly, she leant across the table, long arms bending and spreading across the surface, sleek like a prowling cat until her face was a mere inch from the other's.

'I only ask because when I look at you all I see is desperation.'

Her voice was soft like silk. Had those surrounded them not been so deathly quiet in expectation of an explosion of legendary Black family rage they would have missed the seething whisper. She retracted as gracefully and with a whip of her long ponytail she turned on her heel and strode back towards a curious Neville and Luna. The moment she slipped into the seat beside Neville, he knew something was amiss.

'What happened?' he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

'Nothing you would approve of,' she responded and he frowned in return. Her tone was clipped and yet slightly exasperated. That had not been what she had intended to happen. She was supposed to accompany Hermione for moral support and whilst she had expected a minor insult for asking Ron and Lavender to be more considerate, she had not expected the one she received. Whilst she knew she should have watched her tongue in her response, she could not quite feel bad for it. In fact, the mortified expression that had contorted Lavender's smug face was exactly what she had wanted for the other's insolence.

Hermione skipped up to her, a fiery glint in her brown eyes. More subdued, Harry sat opposite and sighed as he frowned at Cassy.

'That was more of a mess than I expected,' he said, his frown not truly directed at her. 'We should have just left it alone. I think it actually might have gotten worse.'

'Oh, I don't know about that,' said Hermione gleefully. All intentions of apologising were dead and buried.

'What happened?' asked Neville warily.

'I should have kept quiet,' offered Cassy.

'You're right, though, everyone's sick of them doing that all over the place. You weren't even that rude about it,' said Hermione.

'I don't think there's a polite way to phrase it anyway,' added Harry, helping himself to a baked potato. 'But, Hermione, Cormac McLaggen?'

'Yes, what was that about?' probed Cassy quickly.

Under the scandalised expression of Harry's and Cassy's heavily disapproving scowl, Hermione flushed and fidgeted.

'Will someone please tell me what happened?' demanded Neville.

* * *

 **Sorry! You know I don't normally wait three weeks to update, but life is manic at the moment.**

 **This chapter ended up being 90% about teenage romance, hasn't it? I always forget how heavily it featured in the sixth book until I read it again. Cassy lost her temper, whoops! So did Dumbledore, though. It becomes apparent in this year how sentimental he actually is. He might seem to live for the present, but we all know his life has been filled with strife that he carried with him until his death. He gave Cassy a pep talk and yet she still refused to take it all in. He just wants her to do well.**

 **(Not that Cassy will really decline such an offer from the Ministry, she just needs a bit of time to establish herself. Excuses may be in order!)**

 **Other than that, not much happened. I hope you liked it anyway.**

 **Thanks!**


	15. Seasonal suspicions

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XV: Seasonal suspicions**

Perhaps it was inappropriate to loiter by the staircase to watch Ginny and Dean argue heatedly, but neither Cassy or Harry were able to turn away from the unfolding scene. Like the others, they were both dressed in their better clothing. Harry wore a red shirt with a waistcoat and black trousers that only accentuated his already long legs and further announced his rapid growth over summer. One of his polished shoes rested against the wall, his hands hidden in his pockets. Beside him was Cassy, more upright and poised than her boyfriend. She wore a dark blue dress, patterned and knee-length with a Bardot neckline. Her hair was carefully pulled back to look effortlessly ruffled.

Time had been forgotten. Neither teen felt compelled to rush to the Slug Club annual party, Cassy for her determination to be fashionably late and Harry simply because he would rather not be there at all. They had watched the unfolding argument for a while. It had begun more or less from the moment that Ginny had stepped down from the girls' staircase in her pink dress, though the cause of the fight was unclear. There seemed to be no instigation, no reason for the pair to snap and sneer as they did. Ginny pulled her arm from Dean's grip for a second time.

Slowly, never taking his eyes from the pair, Harry leant his head down to Cassy's ear. 'Have Ginny and Dean been having issues?'

'Not that she's mentioned,' said Cassy with a shake of her head. 'I might ask her later.' She then turned to check her red lipstick in the darkened window pane. In the reflection, bright and clear against the dark stillness of the wintery grounds, was a pale face; even from a distance, a look of hope shone through the girl's features, her eyes firmly set upon Harry. Romilda Vane fluttered at the edge of the room. She shifted and shuffled, crossing and uncrossing her legs where she sat upon a table top. The movement had not caught Harry's attention, not as she undoubtedly hoped.

It was not that Cassy was fraught with jealousy over the idea of someone else fancying Harry. She knew he was attractive. She had known that for several years now and it was only natural that others would notice it too. She did not, however, appreciate anyone trying to persuade him to leave her, especially not through the use of drugs. Many of the girls had stepped away from their superficial interest in him after he had kissed her at the Quidditch match, but Vane remained an irritating fly who cropped up again and again just as she was forgotten about.

'I think Vane was hoping you would ask her to the party,' drawled Cassy.

Harry stopped fiddling with his sleeve button and glanced around the room.

'She can keep wishing then, can't she?' he said dismissively. 'We should be off. We can wander and be as late as you like.'

Cassy smirked. 'Ten or fifteen minutes is all you will escape this party for.'

'Break my arm for me?' he pleaded.

With a roll of her eyes, she shoved him through the portrait hole. He laughed and turned in completely the opposite direction of Professor Slughorn's office. In the end, it was twenty-minutes before the two made it to the heavy door of the office. All along the corridor and several floors below loud orchestral music rang through the halls and lively conversations sprung to life as they approached. The door was open. Beside it was Professor Slughorn, his watery eyes keenly drinking in the faces of his guests and favourites as they chatted, forging the bonds he desperately sought them to make as a favour to himself. He turned suddenly.

'Ah-ha!' he cried joyously. 'I wondered where you two had been. Did you come as a pair?' His eyes shone.

'Yeah,' said Harry, slightly swinging Cassy's hand he held – or rather, she held. She had snatched his hand after he made an effort to divert from the party once more and dragged him the remaining way.

'Oh, how wonderful,' he gushed.

Beyond him, the office had clearly been expanded. It was close to five times the size it naturally was and though it had always been spacious, it now offered room for a band and a dancefloor, as well as a large array of food and drink and ample seating. Green and gold tented across the ceiling and down the walls and an enormous chandelier hung from the centre, glistening like diamonds upon mounds of emeralds and liquid gold. Smoke drifted and settled like a second skin across the canopy from the old wizards and their pipes in the corner.

Amongst the crowd was an aged face. It was not old, yet no longer young. The fine lines that had once rimmed his watery eyes and the curves of his lips were thicker now, his brow marked with deep wrinkles, though he remained as rounded as he had always been. Hollinghurst had never been anything but plump.

It had been over a year since Cassy had last seen him. He had tried to draw her into a hug at Alphard's funeral and she had evaded it effortlessly; she had even less time for the man then than she had had for him as a child. Yet, as the only familiar face in the crowd of older guests, she plucked up a glass of white wine from the table, served by a younger boy in a white suit, and sauntered towards him while Professor Slughorn dragged Harry away. She stopped a step back from him as the small group chuckled merrily, perhaps fuelled by too much wine too early in the night.

'Mr Hollinghurst?' she said with her best tone of pleasant surprise.

He turned and immediately his eyes lit up.

'Oh, Merlin's beard!' he exclaimed. 'Look who it is! I haven't seen you for two years.'

One and a half, she thought and the response was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. Her childhood habit had to stop. They were with company now.

His eyes flowed from head to toe and back up again. 'Look at you, look at you. I remember you leaving for Hogwarts, why, I remember you being only up to here and making smoke bombs in Alphard's office.'

'Alphard Black?' queried a woman in a shimmery dress.

'Yes,' beamed Hollinghurst. 'This is his great-niece.'

'Oh!' said the woman, eyebrows raised. 'Oh, yes. I've seen you in the papers. I'm Catherine Waters, the new head of the company. I'm afraid I never got to meet Mr Black, but I've heard a lot about him.'

She extended her hand and Cassy matched her well-practiced smile with one of her own. She learnt a lot from that handshake. The first was that she did not truly care who Cassy was beyond the formality of the occasion. Her handshake was business like and even then it was almost too loose to suggest much desire to impress. The second thing she learnt was that Catherine Waters was right-handed and in part it may have been the cause of the weakness of her handshake for she had extended her left hand; in turn, Cassy had had to offer hers too, revealing the black stone on her finger perfectly. The third thing Cassy learnt, and to her the most important and disappointing, was that the woman had clearly become accustomed to being the cleverest person in the room. The moment her eyes flicked down to the ring, she released her hand. For a second, Waters' face was cold and calculating, then, as though a switch had been flipped, her features brightened again and she smiled as though she had finally decided Cassy might have something to offer her after all. It was a lazy transition.

Still, Cassy integrated herself into the small group with lively words and secret knowing smiles that drew attention back to her time and time again. Waters listened carefully, rarely speaking, whilst Hollinghurst and the two men, one a lawyer and one a Herbologist, both former students of Professor Slughorn's, avidly spoke as though she was not a stranger at all. It was not until one of them looked down at Cassy thoughtfully that something went astray.

'How old are you? Seventeen?' he questioned.

'I am,' she nodded.

'My nephew is seventeen, mind you, he's almost eighteen, so he'll be in the year above. You might know him – hang on. Ben!'

Without turning her head, Cassy followed his eye line. 'Ben' turned and waved to the teens he had been speaking to. He stepped towards his uncle, his black hair perfectly swept back and his handsome face set in a calm, mild manner. Then, he set eyes on Cassy.

'Black,' he said.

'Shandy,' she responded.

'Oh, you two have met?' said his uncle, carefully watching for a hint of their feelings towards one another.

'We have,' said Shandy simply. 'She's a friend of a friend.'

Cassy swilled the wine in her glass. She should get another, it was almost empty.

Out of all the guests in the room, she had managed to find Shandy's relative. Cassy often lamented the way that powerful families extended their branches in every which direction, forcing constant thought of who was who's relative and who might find out what. It was both a blessing and a curse to have such an extended family as so many purebloods did. As pleasant as the Herbologist was, she soon began to look for an escape. She had made her presence known, hopefully made a good, lasting impression and so her job was done and it was time to move on before Shandy grew bored and attempted to dismantle the last twenty-minutes of hard work.

Eventually, she located Harry. He was speaking to a small, bespectacled man and a tall, paler than porcelain man Cassy quickly deduced to be a vampire. She turned back to her own group and smiled before dismissing herself. Carefully, she did not allow her eyes to meet Shandy's, nor to glance back at him as she left. She and he were back to where they had started, in fact, she corrected, worse than before because he used to speak to her when they first met. Now he avoided her and she had no time to dedicate to figuring out where he lay on the spectrum between Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. She had to concentrate on Malfoy now. It was easier to not have him as a distraction.

She slipped her arm around Harry's. He fell silent and she smiled at the two men opposite.

'Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need him for a moment,' she said and without waiting for another word, she pulled him towards the drinks table.

'Thanks,' he breathed, shoulders sagging in relief. 'Slughorn left me with them on his rounds and I couldn't think of a place to leave to.'

'I have had enough socialising for the moment, so pick a place and we will hide,' she said lowly. She glanced up to see his raised eyebrow. 'I met Shandy's uncle and before any damage could be done by Shandy himself I left, so I need to stay out of sight so they can assume I am doing something important.'

Harry grunted. He took his time selecting a glass of Meade and Cassy opted for another wine. She was too short to see over the sea of drifting bodies, but Harry gazed easily around the room over the crowd of heads and waved. For a second, Cassy saw no one of importance to them and then Hermione slipped through a chatting group abruptly and hurried towards them. She grimaced when she halted and looked suspiciously behind her. Her hair was in a neat bun that Cassy had forced it into against its will, and she wore a red dress with softly frilled edges; it was an unexpectedly feminine dress, but Cassy had noted since the Yule Ball that when Hermione chose dresses, she chose very well. It suited her and from the look of horror on her face, McLaggen thought so too.

'I've just left McLaggen under the mistletoe,' she squeaked, facing them again.

'You should have thought about that before you invited him,' said Harry frankly.

'I thought he already had a date,' commented Cassy.

Hermione winced. 'Well, yes, he did and now I have a rather angry seventh-year Hufflepuff after me. I didn't know that at the time, I swear.'

'Well, you're in luck, we were just looking for somewhere to hide ourselves anyway. I'm avoiding Slughorn,' said Harry, frowning around the room.

'I wanted to avoid Shandy but he is staring straight at me,' added Cassy.

The three of them moved across the room towards where Shandy was standing with Stephen. There were remarkably few options for places to hide. Not only had the room purposefully been kept open and spacious to hold the numerous visitors, but the spots where anyone would naturally wish to vanish into seemed to already be taken by others feeling the strain of the situation. They paused to exchange pleasantries with Stephen and his group when manners won out against Cassy's deep desire to pointedly disregard Shandy's existence and return to their pre-acquainted lives. She was introduced to a girl with earthy, copper skin, hazel eyes, and black hair; her name was Nadira Mercier, Stephen's girlfriend of several months now. Beside her was a very tall blonde with beautiful brown eyes and a very pretty face. Stephen had mentioned her before; she was Shandy's new interest.

The blonde smiled. 'Yer speech was very Gryffindor – brave, I mean. Ambitious, too.' Her voice was thick with a Scottish brogue and her smile was not unkind. In fact, there was nothing to suggest she was anything like Shandy at all.

'You're Blaire Buchannan,' said Harry, blinking.

Cassy refrained from showing her surprise, though both she and Hermione turned to Harry with a silent exchange of astonishment in their eyes.

'The old Ravenclaw keeper. How's your arm?'

'Muscle damage, torn ligament. The Healer said I shouldn't play fer a season to stop it happening again,' she lamented.

With a look of mild despair, for she should have known it would be Quidditch related, Cassy turned back to find Mercier's eyes on her. The older woman said nothing and instead simply flicked her gaze away to Stephen uncertainly. She was shy, he had told her that much. It was apparently a refreshing change from the assertive, demanding presence that Natalia Faulks had brought into his life for so long. Unconcerned, Cassy said, 'Enjoying your evening?'

Mercier's dark eyes widened and she nodded with a meek 'yes' slipping past her lips.

'Spoken to many people?' she continued.

Stephen appeared to take pity on his girlfriend and answered for her. 'Not really, we met Ben's uncle, but you've met him too, so…'

'His uncle quite likes yeh. Doesn't he, Ben?' said Buchannan suddenly. 'We were talkin' about yer speech, actually, just before yeh came over. Ben thought it was good.' She twisted to peer at Shandy expectantly. His face was dark, shadowed in part by the canopy above and in part by his measured expression.

'It was weak for the risk you took,' he said, finally turning to acknowledge Cassy. 'If you intend to put your life on the line, at least make it bold.'

She smirked. 'That is all saved for the next one, do not worry about that. I do not intent to waste my chance to criticise Voldemort.'

The two girls shuddered. Stephen had heard his name spoken too many times to care and, curiously yet not at all surprisingly, Shandy did not even blink.

'Why bother?' he asked, his head tilted to one side.

'Because I do not like my fate being controlled by others,' she said without hesitation.

The words resonated with Shandy, she knew they did. He, like her, had had many expectations in life put on him by his family and by himself. He never spoke of them, though the bitterness was evident when they were so much as suggested to exist. The words struck with him like they did with her. It was true, she would not be controlled and without much consideration, she was certain neither would he.

Sensing the conversation had been brought to an early close, Cassy turned to Harry and Hermione and jerked her head back to the far corner where they had been heading before. She waved a lazy hand as she parted from Stephen and exchanged a quick word of how delighted she was to meet Buchannan and Mercier. Hermione had dissolved into nervous fluttering, shifting her weight from side to side as the conversation had progressed. Her head turned behind her every few moments back to where McLaggen was undoubtedly standing, annoyed and wounded at being stood up beneath the mistletoe.

Hermione's shoulders sagged in relief when they shuffled behind a translucent drape.

'You should have picked someone you would have liked to go with,' commented Cassy dryly.

'That's not really possible, is it?' responded Hermione, dully.

Cassy titled her head forward in a pointed stare.

'Ron was jealous over you and Krum,' said Harry abruptly.

Hermione's neck should have cracked at the speed she whipped it around to him.

'Ginny mentioned it to him in their argument. He got really funny after it. That's why he's been ignoring you,' he admitted, hands in his pockets.

Hermione stared and a look of understanding dawned on her face. 'He's doing this because he's jealous I had a boyfriend?'

Harry shrugged. 'It looks like it.'

Silence fell between them.

'I cannot believe you like a boy who teases you so much and then invited one with more tentacles than the Giant Squid to a party,' chided Cassy after a beat.

Harry snorted.

'I think you'll find he has more tentacles than a Snuffleup plant,' grumbled Hermione; Cassy and Harry burst into muffled laughter. 'And besides, you tease me all the time. You can't talk.'

'Ah, yes,' professed Cassy, 'but I do it as a friend. Besides, what iz Hermy-ninny going to do about it?'

Her accent was good; neither Harry nor Hermione could protest it even if they wanted to for the pair had dissolved into loud laughter. It was only a few minutes later that a shadow fell over them. They all turned in tandem.

'Cormac!' squeaked Hermione, doing her best to control her voice and utter disappointment. 'I was just about to find you.'

'Got side-tracked, did you?' he asked bitterly.

Cassy took a step backwards. She and Harry moved quickly away from Hermione and her weak excuses and straight into the path of an overjoyed Professor Slughorn.

'There you are, Harry!' he exclaimed. His cheeks were flushed red and an empty glass of wine was held loosely between his fat fingers. 'And Miss Black, how delightful. Come, come.'

They had no choice but to follow; Professor Slughorn waited for them to follow his outstretched hand before he began to move himself. He ushered them over to a small cluster of adults. Cassy recognised a few of them from her earlier observations of the guests, but none she knew by name, none with the exception of Professor Snape. As they walked, Professor Slughorn chatted animatedly. Perhaps it was his own naivety or simply his drunkenness that stopped him spotting the dark look of loathing that flashed across Professor Snape's face.

'What a tragedy it would be if Potter and Black were separated for more than a second,' drawled Professor Snape.

'I was just telling everyone how you got your Potion skills from your mother,' announced Professor Slughorn, ignoring him.

The area around Professor Snape's eyes tightened.

'Potter could barely make smoke, let alone the Draught of the Living Dead,' he said.

Harry clenched his jaw but said nothing.

'He did,' said Professor Slughorn, proudly. 'It was excellent. One drop could have killed us all.'

Again, Professor Snape looked as though he wanted to protest. Cassy thought it was funny, really, that he should praise Lily Potter's potion skills when the pair had not been friends since they were younger than she herself. However indirectly the claim had been made, he had clearly found the comparison to be wrong. Her eyes drifted as the conversation threatened to continue on in the same back and forth fashion. Professor Snape would eventually let it drop, abrupt and awkwardly when his irritation fell short against his overall apathy towards anything Harry might have going well for him. She allowed her eyes to linger on the dance floor; the stringed quartet played off centre and a grand piano sat silently waiting for a chance to light up the room with a beautiful melody. She wanted to dance. Harry hated dancing.

'Sorry, Sir,' said Harry, slicing through her wistful thoughts, 'but we've not had a chance to get drinks, so do you mind if –'

'Oh, no, go ahead, my dear boy, go and enjoy yourselves,' said Professor Slughorn, waving his hand airily. It seemed all he had wanted to do was to show his guests that Harry had been present at his party and not to show him off with any meaningless conversation.

The two slipped away to the drinks table. It was unneeded, their last drinks were only finished minutes ago, but it looked best to be truthful. Cassy started on her third glass of wine – spread through the hour as not to make a fool of herself – and Harry tried a white wine himself.

'I don't know how you can drink this,' he said, scrunching his nose.

'Cheap wine is supposed to be worse, you know. I guarantee this is the finest wine he could find,' she said and swirled the drink pointedly. 'Tip it into the hydrangea if you don't want it.'

He shrugged and took another sip. Like Cassy, his attention strayed to observe the lively room around them. The party was not as bad as he had expected it to be. It was filled with too many pretentious people and fake faces, but it was not truly awful. He wondered how it fared to Cassy's more luxurious gatherings. Not even she seemed to be thriving, her face was idle, neither interested nor bored in the bodies surrounding them.

Then again, he thought, what was it she did at parties?

She danced, he supposed. She loved to dance, though he hated his own uncoordinated feet. Gracefully, she could sweep backwards and around, her steps planned and yet effortless. She had done it for years and had loved it, but gave it up once she began Hogwarts. It was pointless to continue it during the holidays alone and Harry felt his heart ache a little at the thought of it; her dark blue eyes had shone with mirth like no other when she had taught him to dance.

He opened his mouth the moment the door of the office swung open and cut through the merry atmosphere with a thunderous bang. Silence fell.

'Professor Slughorn!' bellowed Filch. He limped into the room dragging a struggling student behind him. He pushed him to the ground and sprawled out on the floor was Malfoy, a tinge of red on his pale cheeks, but whether that was embarrassment or anger no one was certain. 'Found him loitering in an upstairs corridor, said he'd been invited here.'

'Alright, I was going to crash it. Happy now?' snapped Malfoy, standing.

Professor Slughorn stared blankly for a moment, before flapping a hand lazily. 'Oh, let him stay. It's Christmas, after all.'

Malfoy's lips curled backwards.

'Draco, outside. Now,' ordered Professor Snape sharply.

'Come now, Severus,' tried Professor Slughorn, but Professor Snape turned sharply.

'He's of my House and I will reprimand him for his actions even if you will not,' he said firmly. Within a mere three paces, he had crossed the large office and grabbed Malfoy's arm tightly. He hauled him from the room and the door swung shut with another shattering slam. Professor Slughorn cleared his throat and the music began again. Loud conversation erupted and the surge of sound overruled any noticeable strangeness at Cassy and Harry's silence. Together, they stared at the shut door.

'That's interesting,' said Cassy.

'Snape looked afraid,' added Harry.

'I noticed,' she replied. 'Malfoy was desperate to leave.'

'He was horrified when he was offered to stay.'

'It's like he wanted to be sent to bed.'

There was a moment of quiet and the two turned to look at each other.

'I've got the cloak,' said Harry suddenly.

'Brilliant,' smirked Cassy. She loved that cloak. It was by far the most useful item either of them owned besides their wands and even then, it most likely got them out of just as much trouble over the years.

With only a quick look around to check they were not being watched, the two slipped from the room. In an instant, the cloak was thrown over them and they hurtled down the corridor in the direction they had seen Professor Snape's coattails fly as he eagerly fled. They slid to a stop and dropped their pace to a quick walk when they approached a divide in the corridor. Listening carefully, Harry nodded down the right-hand parting and the pair crept carefully along it towards the faint hisses of heated voices.

'I know what you're trying to do and it won't work. I can stop you now,' snarled Malfoy. A thinly vailed vain of panic ran through his voice. The sight of him was not much more composed, for his back was against the cold stone wall and his hair was dishevelled from doubtless nervous ruffling. His sickly appearance had not faded as the weeks had passed. Cassy had not failed to notice how the rings around his eyes grew more pronounced each day and how his body had slowed and yet quickened with anxious tittering.

'Bellatrix taught you,' commented Professor Snape slowly.

Cassy gritted her teeth.

'I can help you, you know. I made an Unbreakable Vow to your mother – ' he continued softly.

She stiffened. Harry frowned.

'It's just taking longer than I expected. I can manage, I do not need you trying to steal my glory from me! I can do this alone,' hissed Malfoy. He took a step forward towards Professor Snape, seemingly finding his confidence in a forced, well-practised display of arrogance. He sneered in a show of all his white teeth before he stalked away into the dark depths of the corridor. Professor Snape did not call out for him or order him back. He did nothing, in fact. He did not even sigh as he turned on the spot and strode away in the opposite direction to Malfoy only a moment later. It almost appeared as though they had had that very argument before.

'C'mon,' whispered Harry.

Although they followed the pathway Malfoy had taken to the best of their knowledge, they did not see him again. He had vanished somewhere within the winding halls. When they were forced to abandon their search, Cassy finally allowed the background whirling of her mind to take the centre stage and hundreds of questions demanded answers within a mere second of contemplation.

'He made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa. She's terrified for him,' she breathed. An obvious observation, she knew. Her son must be in immediate danger, but really, what else did she expect when she sided with Voldemort?

'What is an Unbreakable Vow?' asked Harry, frowning.

Cassy pursed her lips. 'It is a promise, a vow bound by magic which one must comply with. If they fail to do so, they die.'

Harry gazed at her for a long time, before his attention turned to the darkness of the distant hall.

* * *

 **Sorry for the delay!**

 **So, Cassy got a little insight into Shandy's view on her speech and knows it is time to get serious about Malfoy. How she's going to do that you'll have to wait and see.**

 **This is a pretty close to the story chapter, but you know me, I'll deviate in and out of canon soon enough. The next chapter is Christmas and twice the length of this one, at least.**

 **Thanks!**


	16. Joy and Woe

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XVI: Joy and Woe**

As soon as their feet stepped through the ash-laden threshold of the grand fireplace, the familiar, unmovable scent of must filled their noses. Grimmauld Place looked cheerier than it had in many months. The vigorous cleaning of the past year had eased the dark and dingy corners and uncovered what was once a magnificent house, but it had not looked as homely and lived-in as it did at Christmas when bright decorations smothered the peeling wallpaper and tinsel hung from every cabinet.

Sirius had arrived to collect Cassy and Harry from the train station the day after lessons had ended. A Ministry car had been waiting for them nearby, a traditional vehicle, black and long and more conspicuous than clearly intended as Muggles stopped to admire it on their way out. Two men sat in the front in purple robes. They had their wands drawn as they loaded the heavy trunks into the magically extended boot and sat upright and ready for the entire journey. Beyond the initially eager handshake Harry received, they did not speak to the three in the back. Sirius' excited chatter would have smothered their voices anyway as he eagerly retold his last few months of freedom.

It was almost two hours later that the car pulled into a beaten driveway. Through the window, a little house was visible; a red front door, large windows, and a tiny circular one that poked through the tiled roof. The Aurors exited the car with only a signal to remain seated. Silently, they surveyed the premises.

'And this is what you wished to do with your life?' asked Cassy, watching the men slink around the wall.

'Maybe I'll stick to higher profile jobs,' drawled Harry.

'They won't find anyone. This place is warded almost as well as any other Black home. The difference is that I have not bothered with a Filidius Charm,' said Sirius.

When the men returned, assured it was safe, the three were left to watch the car trundle down the narrow country highway. The Sun had long since set. Their journey from Scotland had taken long enough and the hours of travelling had made Cassy and Harry tired and eager for food before slipping into comfortable beds to sleep off the last three months of school work. Yet, the journey was not over yet. Sirius did not allow them to drop their belongings in the hallway and discover the kitchen for a well-wanted cup of tea. He waved them through to the living room – a small, homely little room with a large brick fireplace – and held out a pot of Floo powder.

'As much as I want to, we're not staying here,' he said. 'It's not protected enough, so we're returning to Headquarters. I brought this as a seasonal present to myself. It makes a good front for the Ministry too, but maybe one day I will actually get to use it as a home.'

'Will the Floo work? Can't it be traced?' asked Harry, setting Hedwig's cage down on the soft grey sofa.

Sirius tapped his nose. 'Kingsley's taking care of that.'

'Plum can take our trunks then,' said Cassy. Crin's cage was put beside Hedwig's and her owl peered around with narrowed eyes. He squawked loudly and ruffled his feathers before biting at the lock.

'I was going to get Kreacher to do it,' said Sirius.

Cassy cast him a flat sidelong stare.

'Plum,' she called.

The little elf popped into the living room and bowed deeply.

'Mistress,' she greeted and smoothed down her handmade patterned dress. It reminded Cassy that she needed to buy some more fabrics for her. Plum must have used all of the old collection she had gathered by now and Plum loved clothes almost as much as Dobby. Although, she had once stated she much rather grovel naked than be freed like he had been. Dobby did not seem to care; he was quite happy to chat with her about clothes whether she agreed with his freedom or not.

'Plum, please take our belongings to headquarters and be careful of Crin. You know he likes to bite,' instructed Cassy.

Plum nodded vigorously, her large ears flapping. As she grabbed Cassy's trunk and popped away, Sirius pushed Harry towards the fireplace. He vanished in the green burning tendrils that rose like hungry snakes from the cold ashes. Cassy followed; the world twisted and tumbled around her. Flashes of colour fluttered passed her eyes until her vision settled into grey and the familiar faded wallpaper of the drawing room settled ahead. Must assaulted her nose, a faint scent of cinnamon mingled with the dust but the ancient smell of rot could not be tamed, not when it had thrived within the walls for so long.

She stepped out and Sirius appeared behind her.

'I haven't decorated yet,' he said, dusting himself down. 'I thought you two might be able to help me with that. Molly wants to repay the favour from last year, so we're having Christmas day at the Weasleys' anyway.'

'Did Mr Weasley find anything at Malfoy Manor?' asked Harry the moment Sirius' lips stopped moving.

Cassy inwardly sighed. They were barely through the Floo.

'Nothing of suspicion,' hummed Sirius.

Harry must have been holding onto the curiosity of his tip-off to Mr Weasley for months. It was only last week when news that Malfoy Manor had been raided had made the national paper. It was unsurprising that they had found nothing. Even in Borgin and Burkes when the object of attention was within plain sight, Cassy had been unable to locate it.

'We heard Snape and Malfoy talking yesterday. Snape was trying to help him with a plan, but Malfoy wasn't having any of it,' said Harry quickly.

Sirius turned to him with a raised eyebrow and proceeded downstairs towards the kitchen. Harry followed closely behind and Cassy trailed more slowly, resigned to the fact that no matter what they had heard it was unlikely any suspicion would be cast upon Professor Snape. Even she was unsure that he was truly involved in whatever Malfoy was desperately doing. He was his Godfather, but it seemed even he did not know what Malfoy had been up to.

'Dumbledore trusts him,' said Sirius, the words well-practised from years of assuring himself the same thing. 'I don't know why he does. Snape's never cared for anyone who was not a Slytherin or a Death Eater, at least, anyone who wasn't Lily, but then that was a weak affection too. You don't call someone you like a Mudblood, do you?'

Cassy frowned as she stepped from the final stair onto the tiled floor of the basement kitchen.

'How long were they friends for?' she asked curiously.

'Since before they went to Hogwarts. They lived near one another. Snape was the one to tell Lily she was a witch, actually,' he said.

The kettle was placed on the hob.

'Their friendship was over because of that? Did he just walk away?' questioned Cassy. She sat down at the long table as she tried to envision a younger Professor Snape and Lily.

'Oh, no,' laughed Sirius. 'He begged her to forgive him, but she refused. They had been heading in different directions for a while. Lily hated his Death Eater friends and Snape was always embarrassed whenever anyone brought up Lily being a Muggle-born. She had enough.'

Harry made a faint grunt. It was almost missed as the kettle whistled.

'Things only got worse after everyone became aware that James fancied Lily. I mean, he made a point to show off to her constantly, so everyone sort of already knew, but Snape and James got rough with one another after that. James used to be paranoid Snape liked her too, but he was too wrapped up in the Dark Arts to have the capacity to love. I don't think he's ever made a genuine human connection,' said Sirius. He snorted to himself as though the idea of James Potter and Severus Snape ever being in competition with one another was completely absurd. Cassy supposed it was. She did not see how anyone could truly like her Potions teacher; when he was not being vile and bullying, he was utterly indifferent. Then again, at fifteen James sounded like the type of person Cassy could have avoided too.

She glanced at Harry, who was scowling.

'He's a toe-rag and he's defiantly helping Malfoy if he's made an Unbreakable Vow,' he said firmly.

Sirius jolted and boiling water spilt all over the side. He pushed the kettle onto the counter and knocked over one of the cups noisy as he turned.

'Are you sure?'

'We heard him say it,' said Cassy, lounging back in the rickety chair. Her feet rested on the seat opposite. 'It might not be true, but Malfoy certainly seemed to be aware of it himself. Narcissa was the other vow partner. She probably told him about it.'

Sirius cursed beneath his breath and waved his wand absently over the dripping liquid.

'You two are in a better position than the rest of us then. Dumbledore's not telling us much anymore. He seems to have a wider plan, but it's on a need to know basis and what we need to know is very little it seems.' He smoothed his hair back from his forehead. 'Remus has been trying to recruit some of the Werewolf packs, but it's not working. He came back last week looking like shit. Fenrir Greyback's been around and he has a bit more appeal to those who have been ostracised their entire lives.'

Three mugs were set down at the table and Sirius had an unusually bleak expression haunting his revived features.

'We are struggling more than we expected. I think that's the only reason Albus has let you be associated with your speeches. He's hoping you can change some minds,' he said.

Cassy sipped the tea. 'I can try. A lot of what people have said is positive when one ignores the various proclamations that I have dug my own grave.'

'Is it finished yet? Your speech for Christmas?'

'Not yet.'

The second speech had proved to be more tricky to write than the first. It did not flow correctly in her mind. The tone did not remain steady enough and she often had to pause to consider if, given the season, her words would be too heavy and ill-received. The days of the winter holiday wore on and she wrote and rewrote it a dozen times before deciding that, just perhaps, her initial draft was actually the best.

In the long evenings when the Sun set early and Sirius was otherwise occupied with Order business, Harry watched Cassy work. He said nothing, often with a book open on his lap, but he would watch her write and take note of each thoughtful emotion that flickered across her face. Periodically, he would bring her drinks; often it was tea, but sometimes it was hot chocolate depending on the time of night he had run to fetch one. She would always spare a moment to smile thankfully at him with a promise they would do something more fun tomorrow.

The days were filled with games and food – Harry had attempted to teach Cassy to cook – and the evenings were consumed with work. Before anyone knew it, it was Christmas Eve and the speech remained in the same unsatisfying state it had been since she began it almost twenty days before. The radio played a melodic tune with loud bells tolling in the background. The last hour had been uninterrupted Christmas music, though Cassy had not stopped to realise it.

'It's fine, you know. Your speech is good,' said Harry from where he lay sprawled out on her bed. 'You should have Christmas Eve off.'

'And then Christmas itself and then it will be Boxing Day and there will be no time to make any alterations,' she murmured and crossed through another line.

'It was fine when I read it,' he said.

'You have not read this draft.'

'No, but I read the fifteen before it.'

Cassy swivelled in her chair to cast him a withering glare. He gave her a pointed look in return, his bright green eyes opened wide. She sighed. Perhaps he was right. It was probably as good as it was going to get. Reluctantly, she silently agreed with herself that she would stop working on it. She had been going around and around in circles for the last two weeks. Nothing much had changed, nothing she had not altered back, but it had served as a brilliant distraction. She hated not having a project, something to work on and something to think about. If she remained idle her thoughts drifted back to Malfoy and his task and that always served to put her in a sour mood.

The paper was plucked from her hands.

'Stop reading it. It hasn't changed!'

She almost growled despite Harry's teasing tone. He tucked the parchment away onto the mantelpiece where the wooden soldier quickly flattened it in an effort to clamber over it on his routine rounds up and down the length of wood. She stood and Harry grabbed her hands.

'Relax, you're only going to memorise it anyway. A few creases won't kill it,' he said. 'It's Christmas.'

'There is another hour until Christmas,' she drawled and Harry rolled his eyes. Gently, he began to pull and push her hands in different directions, swaying slightly as he moved her limbs in time to the radio. She did not fight it, though she considered it, and stared in pointed disbelief. He neither blushed nor gave in. He smiled and began to push and pull her in wider, more demanding motions until she was forced to move with him. He released one of her hands and held the other up high expectantly. Rolling her eyes back at him, she indulged him and twirled. She slipped her hands from his; they stretched up and around his neck with a step closer to his chest. His hands repositioned onto her waist as he continued to sway. They took a step back, then forward, then another back and he twirled them both around quickly on the spot. With her hand in his, he swung her outward and she laughed as she spun, before she was pulled in again and into a mock, haphazard form of a Waltz. He dipped her low and then easily scooped her up. She threw her head back and laughed; his green eyes glittered, the light of the lamp dancing deep within their depths.

Clang – his foot hit the edge of the bed. With a slight gasp of surprise the two tumbled backwards and Cassy found herself no longer looking down into his eyes, but looking up at them. Harry hovered above her. For a moment, neither moved, before Harry dipped down into a slow, familiar kiss. Again, her arms looped around his neck, dragging him closer.

For the first time, neither of them found a reason to stop. Neither could think, nor bothered to try to, of an excuse. For once, wandering hands were not put back into place and no hushed warnings or worries were whispered. Touches lingered and fingers pulled. The radio continued to play late into the night.

* * *

Through half-lids, slate-blue eyes watched the lump on the other side of the bed inhale and exhale slowly. Each breath was drawn in deeply as Harry slept. His glasses were on the nightstand, an afterthought, and an arm was slung over his face. Softly, sleepily, Cassy smiled to herself. Gently, she ran a hand through his tousled locks.

She did not know if she felt more pleased or embarrassed by what had happened. They had been dating for eight months and there was no doubt in her heart, but a small voice had alerted her when she awoke that neither of them had ever said 'I love you'. She considered that thought while she slipped into a clean pair of jeans. It had never really seemed to matter, the thought had never occurred to her. It was almost as though it did not need to be said, but there was a small whine in her mind that wanted to hear it all the same.

She pulled a loose thread on the thick, green cardigan. It did not matter, she told herself, not really. She was not one for great bouts of sentiment and those words slipped so easily from everyone's mouths anyway they had almost lost meaning.

Her eyes turned sharply.

'How long have you been awake?' she probed, turning on the spot to see the sleepy green eyes in person.

Harry blinked, unaware he had been visible in the mirror.

'For too long and not for much longer,' he replied and rolled over. He pulled the duvet over his head.

She laughed and pulled a cushion from her desk chair to throw at him.

'Get up,' she commanded, swatting his legs beneath the cover. 'What if my father tries to wake you up and you are not in your room? What will Christmas be like then?'

When he groaned, Cassy just smiled before announcing she was going downstairs for a cup of tea. No sound was emitted from the drawing room and the kitchen was also empty. Sirius was still asleep. She glanced down at her watch to find it nearing half-eight in the morning, despite the dull grey of the poorly illuminated sky.

It was only a few minutes later, when the kettle was whistling softly on the hob, that Harry descended to join her. He slumped down into a wooden chair and stretched his arms high above his head. The radio stuttered to life with a flick of her wand. With her eyes focused unseeingly on the tiles in front of her, Cassy silently wondered how Harry felt. What was done was done, of course, and while she did not regret it, not at all, there was a slight murmur in the back of her brain that wondered none the less. Then again, she pushed it aside; it was not very well something someone could bring up in civilised conversation, was it?

She had always been raised to believe that promiscuity caused a poor image, that any act outside of a committed, serious relationship was damaging to her prospects because people would talk. People always talked. Yet, it was no one's business but hers and Harry's. She stood a little straighter. It was no one's business but theirs and she supposed it was serious between them; with how effortless their relationship had been thus far, she had never put a lot of thought into the status of it. Good was good and that was all that mattered even if Alphard would certainly call her a hot-blooded fool and Narcissa would have curled her lips into a familiar sneer that always meant a lecture was to follow. Had they been there, of course, but they were not. One was dead and the other was aiding a man trying to kill her boyfriend.

'Sirius – '

Cassy flinched.

' – really gets into decorating, doesn't he?' commented Harry idly, eyeing the colourful garlands overhead.

Cassy breathed out deeply.

'Scared you, did I?' teased Harry with a raised eyebrow.

'I was thinking,' she said and cast a disapproving stare over her shoulder. 'I had almost forgotten you were there.' She reached to take the whistling kettle from the heat.

'Sorry to disappoint,' he said. 'Did you notice what Sirius' done to the house-elf heads? He's tried to charm beards onto them.'

Cassy cast a withering look over her shoulder.

'It didn't work anyway. They've got wispy white hairs and that's it,' he grinned.

She shook her head and the two had dissolved into a normal, though jovial, conversation by the time Sirius' feet could be heard padding down the hall above. He appeared with a spring in his step and a bright gleam in his eyes. Like last year, there was a certain excitement in the way he moved and spoke, each action conveyed his restrained pleasure. Last year it had been because of his isolation, yet this year he had freedom. His cheer was simply because of the people he was joined by.

Plum and Kitsy cooked breakfast whilst Cassy, Harry, and Sirius chatted. When the plates were cleared and everyone had a fresh cup of steaming tea to take upstairs to the drawing room, they settled down around the roaring fire and delved beneath the bushy tree for gifts. Cassy made a mental list of who had given her what, ensuring she thanked her father and Harry personally for the presents they gave her. Harry's face had lit up with each one, even at the strange insect-infused sweets Luna had gifted him. They both received a Weasley jumper, lovingly handmade by Mrs Weasley, and a box of homemade fudges. They were as delicious as always and the three ate through their boxes as they played cards – Sirius grinned when he discovered Cassy and Harry had both already learnt Poker from Fred and George a few years ago. He won each of the three games they played, even as Cassy began to count cards. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his long sleeves. He let out a bellowing laugh and rolled them up for the final game they played. With not an extra card in sight, Cassy could not fathom how it was possible for him to be so good without cheating. Then a thought clicked.

'You are cheating!' she accused, throwing in her own hand. 'Where is your wand?'

Sirius held up both of his hands and grinned, but Harry darted over the coffee table and pushed Sirius from his seat. He laughed as he clattered to the floor and a dozen cards showered down upon him. A light tap sounded against the floor and his wand rolled across the bare floorboards.

'You cheat!' laughed Harry. 'You were changing the cards with your wand. I knew I had an ace at the start.'

They laughed noisily as Sirius tried in vain to defend himself, but the teens stole back the chocolates they had been betting through each round.

The rest of their gifts were soon tidied away into their bedrooms and Cassy took a moment to redress into something less casual for their lunch at the Weasleys'.

A knee-length black flared skirt and a chequered black and white fitted shirt were decided on in the end. Her hair was redone into a Gibson tuck and the bracelet Harry had brought her was secured around her wrist on the opposite arm to the watch Sirius had given her. She turned her head in the corridor as Harry also exited his bedroom, having put the Weasley jumper on top of the shirt he had already been wearing.

She slipped her feet into the low black heels. 'Ready?'

'Ready.'

No matter how ready Harry was to depart to see the Weasleys, he still hated apparating. The moment the three swirled into sight with a faint pop and their feet touched solid ground, he stumbled and grumbled as his head continued to spin for a second longer. The ground beneath them was no longer covered in thick grass and bright blotches of vibrant flowers. Instead, the new summer shoots had withered and given way to muddied tracks cleared by the dozen or so frequent bodies in and out of the wonky house. The flowers were now mere stalks and the bushes and crooked apple trees were bare, their leaves long since lost before the first yearly frost.

The house was the same, though. It was uneven and sloping, the rooves on each level were constructed from different tiles and many mismatched chimneys poked out from the very uppermost one where they knew Ron's bedroom to be. Bright lights decorated the outside; they flashed blue, red, and green and inside tinsel could be seen lining the windowsill and the cluttered cabinets. As they drew closer to the door they could already hear cheerful chatter and a faint melody whispering beneath it.

Mr Weasley pulled back the door with a beaming smile.

'Right on time,' he grinned. 'Merry Christmas!'

There was an echo of well wishes from within before anyone even had a chance to gage who exactly it was at the door. Their faces lit up brighter when Harry stepped through the threshold. Cassy followed and Sirius stopped to speak to Mr Weasley by the door. All the Weasleys were present, with the exception of Percy, but Cassy did not dare to comment on that at the sight of the joyful faces.

'Harry! Cassy!' called Mrs Weasley. She bustled towards them, her arms open wide.

Cassy took a step back and allowed Harry to be the first to endure her well-intended yet painful embrace. By a process of trial and error, she had determined that the first hug was always the worst because Mrs Weasley was always so much more excited. Besides, Harry did not mind, he always gave a gentle smile when she hugged him and thanked her every time.

When Mrs Weasley pulled back from her tight hug with Cassy, she put her hands on her hips and scowled in a very Ginny-like fashion.

'If you had been my daughter you would have been marched straight home for that newspaper report, young lady,' she said sternly. 'I listened to your radio interview and I am extremely proud of you, both Arthur and I are, but for goodness sake did you really have to?'

Cassy grinned.

'I was surprised when she didn't send you a Howler,' said Ron, his mouth stuffed with several chocolates.

Mrs Weasley swatted his hand away from the bowl as she bustled back around to the other side of the table.

'Make yourselves at home, dears,' she said sweetly to Cassy and Harry before she vanished around the corner and into the kitchen.

Cassy took a moment to survey the room's occupants more carefully. Beside Bill was Fleur, as expected, in a lovely dress and with a glass of wine, and on the sofa, where Sirius and Mr Weasley had migrated to, was Remus, looking pale and wary. His hair had more greys splattered through it than when they had last met and the ever-present circles beneath his eyes had deepened into a dark brown, highlighting the faded scars that marred his face. His amber eyes lifted suddenly meeting hers. For a moment, she did nothing, then she smiled and nodded in a silent greeting. He smiled back seemingly hesitant, as though not expecting any kind of acknowledgement.

The notion made Cassy frown inwardly. Carefully, she kept her face pleasant as she looked back towards Ron with forced disinterest. Remus was a werewolf. He had grown up as one and he had never experienced life without the fear of hatred and disgust. His reluctance to be with Tonks was because of that fear, the fear for her safety and the fear of burdening her youth with a man as worn as he; that much had always been obvious to Cassy. Yet, just then in that moment, he seemed to expect rejection from her merely on the basis that he declined her cousin's advances, as though the bond they had forged was so very fragile it could not handle a disgruntled remark or two about such a thing. They had never been particularly close, not like Harry and Remus had become, but she liked and respected him and wanted to help him not for her cousin's sake but for his own. It seemed she had yet to make that clear to him.

She did not approach him then and there, but vowed silently she would make more of an effort with Remus to show that she appreciated everything he had done for her father and Harry. Whilst brainstorming appropriate times to speak to him and what to say as not to directly address the apparent issue, she watched Ginny imitate Fleur behind her back for almost ten whole minutes before Bill caught sight and shooed her away with a deep scowl. Ginny turned and flicked her long, orange hair over her shoulder before she pranced away in a distinctly Fleur-like style.

Harry had been ushered into the kitchen to help Ron peel the sprouts and Mrs Weasley was urgently trying to escape the conversation Fleur had trapped her in as she brought out another tray of homemade sweets. Fred and George were desperately trying to get Bill to pull a homemade cracker with Sirius and Remus urging them on. Ginny sat beside Cassy at the table, feeding Pigwidgeon treats as the tiny owl ruffled and shuffled in excitement up and down the table. The two girls talked idly about the previous days of their winter holiday. Nothing had really happened. There had been no news about any disturbances and neither had heard from Hermione or Neville. Mrs Weasley had even forbidden Ginny from venturing over to Luna's house.

The doorbell chimed.

Mrs Weasley shot away from Fleur. She wrenched open the door with a cheer.

'Oh, Tonks, it's lovely to see you. You're looking better,' she cooed.

'Thanks for inviting me, Molly.'

When Tonks stepped into view, Cassy had to agree that she looked very different. Instead of brown, lifeless hair, it was messy and dishevelled, although longer than her usual style, and stark white; it was ruffled and styled, reminding Cassy of icicles. Her eyes were not a deep brown but a bright green like the thin pines of the Christmas tree behind her. She grinned when she spotted Cassy, the glittering lights dancing in her eyes.

'Wotcha, Cass,' she greeted. She turned to Ginny and stuck her tongue out, the end forked like a snake's. Ginny giggled and Tonks settled opposite them. Upon closer inspection of her face, she still looked tired but Cassy made allowances for it. Tonks was working day and night for the Order, she would be tired even without the stress that knowing the man she loved cared for her back but would not accept it caused. She looked better than Cassy had seen her in months, though.

It was not long before Ginny was called away by her mother in an attempt to buffer Fleur's ramblings, leaving Cassy with Tonks in the unoccupied half of the room. Immediately, Cassy's eyes softened.

'I had not thought you would come,' she said quietly.

'Yeah, well, it's Christmas and I've been to my parents' house already, so I thought I should pop by to see you and Sirius,' shrugged Tonks, her voice just as hushed.

'You knew he would be here,' commented Cassy.

'That's not why I'm here,' protested Tonks, scowling.

'It's exactly why I thought you would not come,' amended Cassy simply.

Tonks' shoulders slumped. 'I'm not giving up just yet, but I can't convince him if I never see him, can I? Merlin knows I just want to scream at him. I have to show him I can handle everything his condition brings and I can't very well do that by crying all the bloody time.' Her tone had gone from a murmur to each word punctuated with solid determination.

Cassy merely smiled. 'I am glad you are here.'

Tonks smiled in return.

There was a howling laugh from the kitchen. Harry's untamed amusement rang through the house and was accompanied by a loud shriek of 'It's not funny, Harry!' before Ron stomped out of the room. His face was an unmistakable red, more fiery than his hair even, though he did not stop long enough for anyone to truly marvel at the sight. In an instant, he was half way up the stairs with Harry trailing after him, a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter.

'Sorry, Ron. You're right, it's not funny at all,' he called.

'Shut up,' groaned Ron.

It was then not long until an early dinner was spread across the extended table. Mrs Weasley and Bill hovered mismatched dishes to the table, each overflowing with freshly cooked foods from roast potatoes to stuffing balls. Mr Weasley had vanished into the kitchen to find a corkscrew for the wine and Fred and George revealed their own brand of crackers in replacement of the ones already laid. Harry carried the cutlery while Ron juggled with a tall stack of plates he was trying to set.

As they bumped and dodged one another, Cassy found herself standing to the side with her eyes set keenly on Tonks and Remus. Coolly, she regarded the hesitancy in Remus' step as he moved towards her and the coldness in Tonks' voice as she replied. He words were calm and friendly, but her tone was not quite there. Her currently green eyes flickered away with a wince. Remus' moved down to the floor with a slight flinch of his own.

''Ow long 'ave you known the Weasleys for, Cassy?'

Cassy inclined her head towards Fleur, who had moved beside her some time ago and had not spoken a word since. Fleur's silvery-blonde hair was loose like it usually was, her clothes as accumulate as ever; like Cassy, she had made an effort to look presentable. Unfamiliar, though, were her eyes. They were darkened.

Cassy eyed her curiously for a moment. 'Since I was eleven for some of them. I met them sporadically through my education.'

It was clearly not the answer Fleur had been looking for, for the tenseness of her shoulders did not fade at all.

'They like you, yes?' she asked and Cassy nodded. 'Why?'

She had no explanation for that. It was a peculiar question, one she doubted very much was meant to slip from Fleur's lips at all. Yet, it had and Cassy considered what her response would be if she were to dignify such a question with a response at all. After a few seconds, Fleur shook her head and sighed deeply.

'I apologise,' she said stiffly. 'I did not mean for it to sound like it did. All I meant is zat they like you though you are I are similar. You are beautiful, Cassy, and you do not 'ide it, yet they do not 'ate you for it as they do me.'

I did not sweep in out of nowhere and am to marry a son, thought Cassy.

'It does not matter so much to me. They can think what they want, people always 'ave, but it matters to Bill. So, for Bill, I want to try everything I can to have 'is family approve of our marriage,' she continued, now freely frowning. 'You are not warm or inviting, yet they like you.'

Cassy did not even bother to entertain the idea of being insulted. She cocked her head to one side and cast her eyes back over the loudly arguing redheads in front.

'They know I care,' she said simply. 'They know so I do not have to show it to prove it. The things that I have done in the past are enough. They do not know you like that. Perhaps it is their fear that once the war is underway, that is something were to happen to Bill, that you would leave and leave him broken-hearted.'

It was hardly a difficult concept to imagine for Ginny had mentioned it several times since her brother's engagement. She was convinced that Fleur wanted Bill for his handsome looks and nothing more, though Luna had pointed out that there were plenty of attractive men with riches and status that Fleur could have instead. Luna enjoyed the concept of their romance, she thought it was a bit like a story, she once said, an unlikely match. Ginny had snorted and dismissed all defence of Fleur. She had seen her effect on men.

Immediately, Fleur's nostrils flared. 'Is that what they think?'

Her voice was sharp and loud. Sirius peered over his shoulder to look at them both.

'No,' lied Cassy quickly, 'but showing you will not leave will earn their respect. They are very family orientated, they look out for one another. Do the same and they cannot say a word against you.'

With a frustrated growl, Fleur stalked over to Ron and snatched the remaining plates out of his hands. Looking up at the ceiling, Cassy sighed and moved to grab the seat beside Harry. With a shake of her head, she pushed the previous conversation into the depths of her mind.

'What were you laughing about earlier?' she asked and Harry grinned widely.

'You'll never guess what Lavender sent Ron for Christmas. It's a necklace with 'sweetheart' engraved on it. It's even heart shaped,' he whispered.

'Are you serious?' she asked.

When he nodded, Cassy craned around to look at Ron in the doorway of the kitchen. He met her gaze, noted her barely restrained smile and flicked his eyes to Harry. His eyes widened and his cheeks began to colour once again.

'I should not be so surprised,' she drawled, 'not after she started calling him Won-Won.'

'Ronald Weasley, don't you dare throw those scissors!' shrieked Mrs Weasley.

Both Cassy and Harry turned to see Ron with his arm above his head and a pair of blunt kitchen scissors fisted tightly between his fingers. He grunted as he set them down and dropped down into a seat opposite them.

'I hate you both,' he announced.

When everyone was seated, the teens at one end and the adults at the other with Bill in the centre, they began to eat. Hot dishes were passed up and down the table and three gravy boats sailed between the occupants, used to their last dregs. Fred, George, and Cassy were the only ones at the lower end of the table allowed to indulge in any alcohol and the champagne kept flowing between Sirius and Tonks, though for what looked like very different reasons. The crackers were pulled and colour changing paper hats were soon atop everyone's heads. Ginny's hands were dyed a glittery purple from the explosion of hers, Remus' nose had turned long and orange, and Harry had gained massive antlers he was unable to pull off.

'Suits you,' jeered Fred playfully.

'It's a stag, not a reindeer,' he protested whilst laughing.

Mr Weasley soon took pity on him after noting the hazard of antlers at the dinner table and vanished them with a flick of his wand.

With the main course eaten, the only thing left to do was to have dessert. Mrs Weasley clapped her hands together eagerly, ready to reveal the puddings she had been slaving over in preparation for that very moment. She always produced spectacular foods, but her sweets and cakes were always the best. The Christmas before she had made several cakes and a large Christmas pudding, although not even Mrs Weasley's fantastic cooking could make Cassy enjoy a Christmas pudding.

'Let me clear those away, Mrs Weasley,' said Cassy, rising from her chair. She pulled the plates from the woman's hands.

'It's quite alright, dear,' assured Mrs Weasley.

'I insist,' said Cassy. She slipped past her and into the kitchen to set the plates down beside the sink. Ginny dumped a large serving dish beside them as Cassy ran the hot tap, waiting for the water to warm before she filled the bowl.

Mrs Weasley swatted her.

'You're not cleaning them!' she protested indignantly.

Cassy opened her mouth to tell her she had no intention of cleaning them by hand at all. She had learnt a spell to make them do it themselves, after all, but Mrs Weasley waved a tea-towel at her threateningly and shooed her from the sink.

'Got another glass, Molly?' said Tonks from the doorway. 'I rather fancy a glass of water now, my mouths dry.'

'Right-hand side, middle cupboard. Help yourself,' said Mrs Weasley as she pulled a large chocolate cake from the fridge. She exited the room and Tonks turned to the sink with her glass in hand. She watched the steaming water flow from the tap.

'Had a bit too much, have you?' accused Cassy playfully, her eyes narrowed in false suspicion.

'You've never partied with me. You wouldn't last an hour,' said Tonks, winking.

Cassy crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. 'Should you really be encouraging me to drink more?'

'I'm your cousin, not your mother,' snorted Tonks.

Cassy laughed.

A cry of surprise suddenly pierced the air. Before anyone could enquire and just as Cassy and Tonks had turned their heads towards the common area, Mrs Weasley spoke again, 'It's Percy! Look, he's here!'

Hovering in the doorway, Cassy watched Mrs Weasley wrench open the front door and drag Percy's lanky form down into a tight, unyielding embrace. Cries and sniffles were lost in the thick material of his coat; it was new, like his polished shoes and shining horn-rimmed glasses. When she let go, Mr Weasley stepped forward and patted his son's shoulder. Percy merely nodded in response, his hands quickly straightening his clothing. His feet pushed together and his back stiff in the same they had always been since he was a child, but it was the first time the stance had ever appeared so uncomfortable. Then, Cassy saw why.

As he was pulled into the room and out of the cold, a second figure was revealed. With hair wild like a lion's mane and a bespoke suit to contrast his dishevelled face, Rufus Scrimgeour stood some distance away on the beaten pathway.

Mr Weasley stiffened.

'Mother, Father,' greeted Percy stiffly. 'I was working in the area with the Minister.'

For the first time, Mrs Weasley's attention was directed to their other guest.

'We were working in the area and Percy wanted to drop by,' said Scrimgeour with a small smile. He stepped towards the door, his presence no longer ignorable.

It was an obvious lie. Despite that, Mrs Weasley gave a watery smile and clapped her hands together.

'Why don't you join us for pudding? We were just about to start,' she said with no small amount of hope in her voice.

None of the Weasley children moved to greet their estranged brother.

Scrimgeour saved Percy the awkwardness of deciding. 'Go ahead, Percy. Spend some time with your family. In the meanwhile, I was hoping I might have a word with Harry Potter.'

As soon as the Minister's eyes settled on Harry, both Sirius and Remus rose from their seats. Harry held up a hand and silently waved them back again.

'I'll be back in a minute,' he said.

The front door clattered shut and the frostiness in the room was not only the result of the intruding outer air. A heavy silence settled between the siblings. Sirius and Remus kept their eyes fixed on the window where the slow moving forms of Harry and Scrimgeour could be seen walking towards the muddied fields. Cassy turned to Tonks. Their eyes met and wordlessly they retreated into the kitchen. Tonks pushed the door almost to a close and grimaced.

'What are they playing at coming here now?' she hissed. 'What a joke.'

'That was not subtle at all,' complained Cassy in a harsh whisper.

Their voices were masked by Mrs Weasley's ramblings. Cassy did not bother to listen to see if she was talking to anyone in particular, although she suspected it was most likely to Percy, her eagerness to have him home despite the reasoning taking over the tension. Instead, Cassy turned to the sink. She turned the tap off at last. The water had overflown in neglect and had slowly begun to flood the draining-board, though it had not yet made it over the edge of the counter. Tonks finally ran the cold tap and leant back on the opposite side with her drink in hand, her eyebrows raised awkwardly as the two agreed silently to wait out the impending family feud in the safety of the kitchen.

It was only a few minutes later that the back door burst open and Harry strode through scowling deeply.

'Just as I thought,' he said scathingly. 'He wanted an endorsement from me to say the Ministry was doing great.'

Tonks snorted.

'He wants to speak to you too,' he said and Cassy hummed. 'I told him he would have to wait until your speech tomorrow like everyone else. He seemed to think you would anyway.' He pulled off his muddy shoes once more.

'I will have a quick word,' she said, eyeing the man himself as he peered through the kitchen window, evidently having decided she was not in the living room. Harry grunted in displeasure.

'Minister,' she greeted civilly when he opened the back door.

'Lady Black,' he returned. 'I hope the holiday is finding you well.'

'It is, Sir, and the same to you.'

He glanced at Harry. 'I heard from Minister Potter that you are making another speech tomorrow. It is a shame you could not come to see me after your first.' His voice was stronger now, ready for business talk.

Cassy smiled ruefully. 'I am afraid I had very little time to prepare for such an event, Minister. We must arrange a time, though, I do regret my schedule, but school is unrelenting even without the added pressures I have put upon myself already.'

It was not an issue of timings. She had not wanted to meet with him so early on in her play; she needed time to establish herself. If she was seen to have folded and met with the loathed Minister so early then she would lose some of her precarious ground. Next time, however, she would be prepared. For she had a speech tomorrow that would consolidate her stance, then, and only then, would she meet with him. He would ask her again, she was certain of it.

'Yes, quite,' he said with the barest dip of his head.

Loud cheers echoed from behind the door. Ginny, Fred, and George's yells were clearly definable. There was a deep gasp of shock and a smothered snort Cassy thought sounded rather like her father. With no hesitance, Harry pulled the door back open to reveal Percy's brown suit marred with the remnants of the previous meal. Slowly, his ears began to tinge red, his jaw gritted tightly in an effort not to explode in rage. He turned to Scrimgeour, who peered passively from the kitchen, and flushed deeper.

The Minister pursed his lips. 'Perhaps we should be going, Percy.'

'Yes, Sir,' he said stiffly.

As Percy banished the parsnips from his hair and collected his coat, Scrimgeour's piercing eyes swiftly moved to meet Cassy's own calm blues. She held his stare until he broke away with a sidestep to allow Percy to storm from his family home. Without a goodbye or a word of acknowledge, he too strode away from the Weasleys' wonky home, down the muddied tracks and over the tired fence before the pair vanished on the spot, their pops too faint to hear.

Mr and Mrs Weasley no longer looked much like celebrating.

* * *

 **A long chapter at last! I have noticed a bit of trend that this year's chapters are shorter than normal. I simply don't have as much to write with Harry having his own arc away from his friends. Anyway, here is Christmas.**

 **So yeah, stuff happened between Cassy and Harry and what not. Cassy had a small dilemma with her strict upbringing and enforced morals, but she got over that. They've been together ten months at this stage. Does this count as romance, haha?**

 **Otherwise, only bits and bobs happened. So, I hope you liked it.**

 **Thanks!**


	17. A Devil's deal

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XVII: A Devil's deal**

The Boxing Day broadcast went smoothly and Cassy spent the remainder of the holidays quite relieved. For all her concern, Harry had been right; the first draft of the speech had been fine. In fact, when she later compared it to her other drafts it was not merely fine but far better than her more refined work. The emotion was real, her purpose clear. Professor Dumbledore had written to her to offer kind words of praise; she was charismatic in a natural way when she was faced with a discussion of interest, a skill that was best kept in its rawest form as not to build a barrier between herself and the public. Well, he conceded in a small note at the bottom of the page, perhaps not quite the rawest it could be, a little pre-planning never killed anyone.

It was that little bit of planning that really seemed to connect the listeners to her. No small amount of effort had been put into gathering tales of the First Wizarding War. The glorious moments were punctured by the devastating. Tales of victory were offset against personal loss. Certain actions were praised and others were criticised always in relation to real past events. It was hardly a long speech, no more than ten minutes long. Yet, she concentrated on filling every second with information, with purpose so that not a breath was wasted. Those who wrote to her after the first interview had repeatedly raised the topic of her age. The demanded to know how she could possibly understand the fear of the first war and her response had been easy: She was living in the second war. The aftermath of their past was her future and those she was surrounded by were those who had lived that same reality at her age not so many years ago. She made that known. She made every sentence reflect the knowledge she had and had taken the time to gather, carefully, subtly, as not to make it seem as though she was indeed making a show of it.

Many of the stories she used had been chosen because they offered a range of victims. Though she did not point it out, it was obvious from her selection that the victims of the war were indiscriminate. Rich or poor, Pure-Blood or Muggle-Born – they all died. It had earnt her so much post that Sirius was called to sort through the good and the bad when Cassy simply could not read it by herself.

It was passed dinner one day in early January when Cassy and Harry returned to Hogwarts. Sirius waved them through the Floo; he threatened to throw Cassy through if she stopped to check her trunk one more time. She would rather not travel with her belongings in such a hazardous way, given the potential bumps and scrapes, but when she was secure in the knowledge she had buffered the belongings enough, she stopped fussing.

Too many parents were afraid the train was a target for Death Eaters; the reasoning that Harry was onboard was never stated, but the Ministry made allowances for all who had access to the Floo network to use it if a contract had been agreed upon. Each child was given a time to return. Cassy went first, the world span in a familiar whirl of colours for only a moment before she stepped out into a dimly lit office.

'Miss Black,' greeted Professor McGonagall. She ticked a sheet.

'Professor,' replied Cassy as she took a large sidestep.

Not a moment later, Harry rushed through. He slipped off the grate and staggered forward, only to catch himself before he fell.

'Do try not to get so much ash on the mat, Mr Potter,' said Professor McGonagall with a pointed stare over the rims of her glasses.

Harry grinned. 'Sorry, Professor. How was Christmas?'

'Very well, thank-you, Mr Potter,' she said and in the dim light, Cassy was sure she saw their aged Head of House flash a smile. 'Take your things up to the dormitories. You're too late for dinner, so I assume you have both eaten?'

'Yes, Professor,' they responded together.

She nodded her head and the pair exited noisily as Cassy tried to brush down the ash on Harry's robes and Harry dragged his trunk into the door frame with his attention diverted. Behind them, Professor McGonagall sighed loudly and swished her office door shut with a flick of her wand. When it clicked shut, Cassy halted.

'Plum, Kitsy,' she called.

Two faint pops followed almost immediately. With large, floppy years and huge protruding eyes, the two little House-Elves stared up at Cassy, their tiny bodies very nearly vibrating with excitement. It had been longer than what was probably fair since she had last called on them for anything substantial. Carrying bags and making food was all she usually asked of them; there was no longer any need for them to clean, to prepare elaborate dinners for many guests, or to help her sneak in and out of buildings. In fact, the last time they had done such a thing was when she was merely twelve-years-old and on a potential but undecided rescue mission at Harry's aunt's house. She would never need two elves, she hardly needed one whilst at school, and for the first time now she was looking down at their eager faces, she wondered if they knew that.

'I have two tasks for you,' she said, thinking on her feet. 'First, I would like you to take mine and Harry's trunks to our respective dormitories. Then, I want you to do a little sneaking around for me.'

Their ears flapped as they nodded in excitement.

'I want you to track down Mundungus Fletcher and I want you to watch him. Tell me if he is selling anything that has the Black family crest on it and look out for anything else he might have taken from the house. See who he sells it to,' she instructed.

With hardened faces, Plum and Kitsy nodded.

'Yes, Mistress!'

'And please be careful with my trunk. I cannot have anything broken.'

With speed unusual for something so small, they took hold of a trunk each and vanished with a deep bow.

'You're going to get them to spy on Mundungus?' asked Harry incredulously. Despite the surprise in his tone, amusement had edged onto his face.

'He stole from me,' she said simply. 'I want to know if he intends to steal anything more and where it is my wares are going. Besides, the exercise is good for them. The library, yes?'

Harry nodded and hummed, an arm slipped around her waist and pulled her into his side.

The library was busier than it would have been on any normal day. With dinner having finished and the sun having set some hours ago, those with friends in different houses had gathered in clusters around the many tables scattered through the rows of towering shelves. It was not noisy, though, for Madam Pince would never allow it to be above a low murmur. However, this only made Cassy and Harry's presences' all the more obvious. Their footsteps were muffled by the long gangway mats yet they were by no means silent enough when half the school seemed to be ready and waiting for a glimpse of them. Many heads turned and a few people waved; more fell silent, or whispered to one another with their eyes locked firmly upon the pair. Cassy did not so much as glance in their direction. Her head remained high and her shoulders drawn back.

Eventually, the two found Neville, Hermione, and Luna seated at a lonely table in a far-off corner. They were bent over a large book, undoubtedly Neville's from the interest on his face. Ginny was absent, most likely catching up on missed time with Dean.

Luna caught sight of them first. Her straggly blonde hair was tied messily in a knot on the top of her head, strands fell around her eyes and ears to give the appearance of being even more sparse-minded than usual. She smiled.

'I thought with Harry's transportation skills he might have been lost a grate or two down,' she said.

'Oh, ha-ha,' said Harry. 'I've not actually done that yet.'

'With how late you two are here I thought it was a plausible idea,' she commented, smiling wider.

'We are hardly the last. I believe people are coming through right until curfew,' interjected Cassy as she took the empty seat beside Hermione.

Neville beamed at her in greeting. He had cut his hair and pushed it to one side opposed to leaving it flat and straight. In fact, his robes were new. They tended to get worn quickly with boys anyway, but Neville's previous pair had tears and loose threads at the cuffs on the sleeves from his Herbology work. She wondered idly if she were to look beneath the table if she would see a shiny new pair of black dress shoes too. Neville was certainly out to impress someone, she was just not quite certain who.

'How was your Christmases? Or Christmas, seeing as you shared it,' asked Hermione.

Cassy turned her eyes towards her. Was that a tinge of bitterness she heard?

'Fine,' said Harry. 'We spent Christmas day at the Weasleys'.'

'That's nice,' said Hermione.

It was certainly bitterness she heard.

'It was more awkward than anything else, Percy arrived with the Minister of Magic,' added Cassy swiftly. Hermione really had not missed anything.

'The Minister?' gaped Neville.

'Just to ask me to be the Ministry's poster boy against Voldemort,' said Harry flippantly. 'Speaking of Voldemort, what do you reckon about Malfoy?'

They had all heard the story on the way home before Christmas. Hermione remained unconvinced. She, like Remus, was favouring the likelihood that Professor Snape was trying to extract information, whereas Neville followed Harry's thoughts – Professor Snape was attempting to double-cross them. Luna's opinion landed neither here nor there and Cassy's fluttered in the air with no real direction. Her mind tossed and turned various thoughts but they all came back around as inconclusive as they had left.

Again and again, she wondered why the Headmaster was so certain of Professor Snape's loyalty. There had to be something he knew that was so convincing that seventeen years down the line it needed no reassertion. There had to be something Professor Dumbledore put so much faith in that he would accept no questions. She had one idea, but it could never be right. Love was the obvious answer. He adored it; the emotion was on a pedestal above every other motivator. Time and time again he used it to justify and explain events in life, from her own actions to Harry's very unlikely survival. It was always what he preached, the very aspect of Voldemort's life that had been the cause of his evil. Yet, she could not imagine Professor Snape in love, nor could she see the sense in having such unyielding faith in it. Love made people do the most ridiculous things. People fought and abandoned everything for love. It would be easy to change sides or leave it behind altogether.

No, she decided, that was not a good motivator, there had to be something else.

It was only a minute before curfew that the Gryffindors made it inside the common room. The Fat Lady swung away with a heavy sigh, her face tired and her response sluggish, most likely from having invaded the vineyard portrait on the seventh-floor once too often over New Years. Many of the faces within contradicted her misery. Bright, laughing faces were scattered throughout the room; despite the impending danger, the students seemed to be unaware of it at that very moment. Whether it was ignorance or just forced pleasure, Cassy was unsure.

One face that did not shine amongst the happy mass sat drawn and sullen by the fire. No one sat around him, his deep stare perhaps warding away the more cheerful souls. It was peculiar; he was one of the most cheerful people Cassy knew.

'I am going to speak to Dean,' she said with a short wave over her shoulder.

Without sparing a moment for any responses, she strode over to the fireplace and slipped into the seat on the sofa closest to the armchair Dean occupied. She leant forward, her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her laced fingers. She stared. After a moment, Dean's dark eyes flicked towards her and he jolted. A hand flew up to rest over his heart.

'Sorry! I was a million miles away,' he said and grinned.

'It is lucky to have a million miles of thought in one's mind,' she said lightly and slowly blinked.

Dean pursed his lips. 'I don't know about that. I'd love to have less to think about.'

'Tell me about it then, these thoughts,' she said.

Dean sighed heavily and reclined in the chair. With a crooked smile, he looked from the fire to her. The yellow light danced over his dark skin and deep shadows were cast beneath his eyes. His smile was false, his posture defeated and he looked as though he had not the energy to lie.

'I reckon you know a fair bit about it already,' he said and when Cassy raised a single eyebrow, he nodded towards the staircase on the far right. 'Ginny and I had another fight. She's always angry with me, lately. I thought Christmas would do us some good, y'know, time apart, but it doesn't seem to have made any difference.'

'What catalysed it this time, then?' she asked easily and Dean shrugged.

'I honestly have no idea. All I did was let her go through the portrait first and she snapped at me, then it just escalated. She did that thing girls do when they won't admit something is wrong and expect you to know what it is anyway – no offence.'

'None taken,' she assured. 'You ought to stop being so nice to her.'

'What?' demanded Dean, scandalised. 'Just because we fought doesn't mean I should hate her.'

'That's not what I mean,' said Cassy dismissively. 'She likes her independence. Six brothers are a cause for loathing to feel undermined. Treating her as a delicate flower will irritate her. Be nice, but not too nice.'

With tightly narrowed eyes, Dean seemed to consider her advice. Then, he slowly opened his mouth and said, 'She's offended by me being nice to her?'

Cassy closed her eyes for a second in an attempt not to roll them.

'Is that what I said? I said you are being too nice for her tastes. There is a boundary.'

Personally, Cassy saw no issue with her comment. It was true that there was a distinct difference between what was polite and kind and what was simply annoying, yet that seemed not to have registered with the other at all. When Dean continued to stare at her with an expression caught somewhere between shock and disgust, Cassy sat back in her seat and stretched her long legs out, twisting one on top of the other. Her palm now supported her cheekbone and she cast him a lazy look. She had nothing else to offer now.

'Perhaps ask another of her friends. I am not certified to give relationship advice,' she drawled.

'You and Harry are doing alright, though, right? I've never even seen you two argue,' said Dean with a laugh.

'We argue all the time,' dismissed Cassy. 'Usually nothing serious and besides, Harry and I have been friends for years. I already knew most of his annoying habits beforehand.'

'Oh, yeah, what annoying habits does he have?' questioned Dean with a wide grin.

Although Cassy knew he was deflecting the conversation, she allowed it to continue, if just for his sake. She hummed in thought. 'When you have a box of Berty Botts', he goes through and eats all the blue, red, and pink ones and always seals it up again, so it looks like it's a full box, but now all the safe flavours are gone. It's infuriating.'

Dean laughed. 'If that's the biggest of your relationship issues then you two have it easy.'

Cassy waved a hand flippantly. The truest irritation was his stubbornness, yet that was hardly news. Anyone who had ever met Harry would know he had stubbornness entrenched in his soul deep enough to rival an ocean. It had its uses, though if he could do something about his one-track mind then Cassy would be truly grateful. She would rather not hear another word about her cousin; the same situation and same suspicions had been repeated over and over again all holiday and it was not until Cassy had turned to tell him to be quiet that he had simmered down. As it was, she had thought of her own plan to help move it along.

She could not put this plan into motion until she had separated from Dean and the Gryffindors had found their beds at long last hours after curfew. It was only when everyone was sleeping – Pavarti rolled restlessly and Lavender muttered, Hermione lay perfectly still – did she rise from beneath her warm covers. Silently, she redressed and slipped the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak from the trunk at the foot of the bed. Gentle clinks of rolling veils pierced the silent night like childish shrieks on a summer's day, too loud and at a frequency made to terrorise ears. As it was, Pavarti merely rolled again. The boot she had stuffed the veils in was nestled back down amongst the jumpers safely.

In the common room, the fire was dying. She knew that she had most likely interrupted the House-Elves tidying for they always stoked the fire to keep it roaring through until dawn, but like all good House-Elves they remained out of sight. In the flickering glow, the clock read only minutes past two.

'Plum,' called Cassy in a sharp whisper.

There was a faint crack and the little figure appeared. She was wearing a different dress than the one Cassy had seen her in earlier, though Plum liked to change them depending on what she was doing. It reminded her to fetch her some wool so she could make herself some thicker garments.

Shaking her wayward thoughts from her mind, she asked, 'Sorry if I interrupted you, Plum.'

'Of course Mistress did not!' cried Plum. 'Mistress could never interrupt because Mistress is always the first priority!'

Cassy smiled lightly. 'Plum, can you find out what the password to the Slytherin common room is?'

Plum blinked owlishly for a moment and then nodded.

'Can you do it discreetly?' questioned Cassy when Plum had not moved.

'Mistress, Plum does not know why you want the password, but if Mistress is wanting to access the common room then Plum can simply ask the door to open. Plum thinks that might be more...discreet. That way Plum does not need to ask anyone else who might tell someone Plum asked.' She spoke carefully, but with a confidence to voice her opinion that no other House-Elf had ever been seen to have. Instilled in her were her duties, her very nature was that to serve, but Cassy always valued her input; after all, she had dragged Plum around with her through all her misadventures as a child.

'Perfect. That would be brilliant,' praised Cassy and Plum beamed back, glowing beneath the commendation. 'Lead the way.'

The Invisibility Cloak was thrown over Cassy's head and she followed Plum down the dark, cold corridors. Inwardly, she pondered over what exactly Plum had access to as a Hogwarts Elf. It had never occurred to her that they might be able to enter the common rooms through their true entrances, she had rather assumed they apparated instead. That posed more questions, though, such as if she could apparate people around the building, or even into the building, but she supposed the last one was very unlikely; parents would be frequently popping in and out and Voldemort certainly would have gained entry somehow by now. Curious, she asked.

'Plum cannot apparate people around Hogwarts, only animals, Mistress, and it is certainly not possible to bring anyone here. Plum can ask for anywhere in the castle to open for her and she knows all the secret passages – all the Elves do so we don't bother anyone,' chirped Plum merrily. She skipped along several feet ahead of Cassy. 'Not that there is anyone to see in Mistress' common room after all the clothing that had been hidden away. Everyone's too worried it will return – except for Dobby, but Plum thinks he has enough clothes!'

Plum visibly shivered and Cassy smiled.

'Have you made anything with the cloth I gave you at Christmas?' she asked and Plum nodded.

'Plum is mid-way through making a new apron and Dobby has asked for a pair of shorts, so Plum will make those when she is done.'

Cassy allowed the rest of the journey to be conducted in silence. Just as the map showed, there was no one wandering the corridors, either basking in the bright light of the moon or skulking suspiciously through the shadows of any corridor. The dungeons had no windows and the lanterns were not lit so late at night. The map and wand beneath the cloak were the only things to guide her as she travelled otherwise blind. She knew the exact number of steps on each descending staircase and which ones were eternally crooked and uneven; she knew were the stones on the wall jutted out a fraction too far and kept straight down the centre of the hall to avoid snagging the cloak and revealing herself to the many portraits that would turn her in to Professor Snape at first light. It was easy to navigate the corridors after so many years.

Her familiarity with the Slytherin dungeon was less explainable to good company. When she thanked and departed from Plum, she entered the common room and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim green glow from the Black Lake above. The moonlight did not pierce the water in the same way the sun did and it was only because of the roaring fire was she really able to see at all. She flicked her wand's light away silently and slipped the map into a large pocket on her long cardigan. Down the corridor on the left of the room was a series of dark doors. Each door was adorned with a silver number. At number four, Cassy halted and gingerly twisted the ornate nob. When there was no shout or scramble of surprise, she slithered in.

Unlike the common room, there were no giant, arching windows to let in the faint moonlight. Instead, a small fireplace sat in the centre end of the isle between six identical bedframes. Even in the faint light, it was not difficult to spot the pale curls that spread across one of the silk pillows.

'Astoria,' hissed Cassy. 'Astoria!'

Blurrily, Astoria opened her eyes and scowled into the darkness. With a deep huff, she turned and drew the covers higher to her chin.

'Astoria,' whispered Cassy again.

There was a pause before Astoria sat up a fraction and scanned the room. Just as she went to lie back down, Cassy pulled the cloak from her face. Astoria's head whipped around and she very nearly shrieked. She managed to snap her mouth shut a moment before, muffling it to a squeak.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded in a loud whisper.

'Come with me,' insisted Cassy.

'Are you mad? What time is it?'

'Unimportant. I need your assistance,' said Cassy quietly.

Astoria gave her a flat look. 'Can it not wait until morning?'

'Not at all.'

With a growl, she set her feet gingerly upon the cold stone and grabbed her dressing gown from where it had been hung on the lower bedhead. She huffed and puffed all the way to the common room, her arms were firmly folded across her chest and her scowl had yet to lift. As soon as their feet halted, she emitted her biggest huff yet.

'So?' she demanded.

Cassy surveyed the room quickly. It was still empty.

'I want to make a Polyjuice Potion so I can observe Malfoy and I want to pretend to be you for the day,' she explained shortly in a matter-of-fact, no-nonsense tone that left Astoria squinting in the darkness.

'Why?'

'He is up - '

' - to something, yes, yes. I have heard that story before. You do know whatever he does that ruins his life is entirely upon his own head, yes?' interrupted Astoria. She shifted her weight on her feet in visible deliberation if this was a conversation that was best said sitting down. She padded over to a nearby sofa and drew her knees to her chest as she snuggled down.

'Of course,' said Cassy easily. She perched on a nearby arm.

Astoria flatly hummed.

'Look, if it was just his life he was going to jeopardise then it would not be my concern, but it is not and I know that,' she said firmly.

Astoria stared for a moment, then asked, 'What do you think he is doing?'

'I cannot answer that.'

'Cannot or will not?'

'Cannot.' She had accepted the responsibilities of the Order of the Phoenix and that meant not disclosing potential information to anyone outside of their circle. If she was seen to be unreliable then she would lose her place, and if she could not be seen to persuade without having to reveal personal information then what use was she really?

Astoria had once held feelings for Malfoy, though she was but a young girl. She was still young, not yet of age and even then age dictated them both to be foolish; she just had to hope that perhaps, in some small way, Astoria still held an interest in him.

'If he wants to get himself killed, then let him, Cassy. It really is not your responsibility to run around after wayward family members,' said Astoria after nearly a full minute of silent contemplation. 'However, if he's really going to cause as much trouble as you make it seem like he will, then sure. You can have one of my hairs – if I get to be you for the day.'

Cassy stared.

'Think about it,' said Astoria, perking up. 'There cannot be two of me, so I would have to be someone else.'

Frowning, she continued to stare. Despite a dozen alarms ringing in her mind and every bone in her body shuddering at the idea of allowing Astoria to wreak havoc whilst wearing her face for a day, she nodded.

'Fine. We will swap bodies.'

Astoria beamed, undeterred by Cassy's critically narrowed eyes.

* * *

'I suppose it will be settled once and for all then,' announced Hermione over breakfast the next morning. 'You'll know for sure if he's up to something.'

'The only issue I will have is with her friends. I will need to get to know their dynamic better; I rarely see them together to have any idea what I might say,' stated Cassy thoughtfully. She took a sip of pumpkin juice.

'If you're following Malfoy around all day you probably won't talk to her friends,' said Harry and Cassy eyed him from the corner of her eye.

'You never put enough forethought into these plans. What if he spends most of the day in the common room simply talking? It will be highly unlikely no one will speak to her and I would rather not make things more difficult than they already are for her. She's in enough trouble because of me. The least I can do is minimise my future damage,' she replied.

This time, Harry nodded his head in agreement. It was sheer dumb luck that her cousin was gullible enough so that they received any information from him in their second year; even though she had tried to instil a plan into their heads, it had not worked at all.

'When would you do it, though? We've got Apparition lessons for the next twelve weeks,' queried Neville.

'I have not made up my mind about that yet. I have everything I need, I brought it over Christmas,' she said simply.

It was only a few days later that Cassy met with Astoria in the second-floor girls' toilets. Hidden in a stall were cases of ingredients and a small cauldron, set and ready for the project to begin. They spoke in hushed whispers, aware their voices could summon nosey Myrtle from the pipes at any time and while she favoured Harry very much, she had not developed a fondness for his friends. When Cassy had departed from Harry as he trudged up to Professor Dumbledore's office once more for a meeting, he had warned her as such; he was certain Professor Dumbledore would not take kindly to their meddling this time. His last few attempts to persuade the Headmaster to act were pushed aside shortly in an uncharacteristic disinterest in his suspicions. It merely made Cassy believe he was already very aware of the realities of the situation, but she did not push that thought. They would simply have to trust him to handle it whilst they figured out what it was exactly Malfoy was doing to corroborate information. Even Hermione had not argued with that angle of thought.

Although, Astoria's manic grin made Cassy feel very much like she had made a deal with the Devil.

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **A slightly shorter chapter this week. Little bit of tension, little bit of plot building.**

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	18. Everybody has their missions

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter VIII: Everybody has their missions**

It was not that the meetings Harry had with Professor Dumbledore were uninteresting, it was actually quite the opposite, it was just that no one found themselves even remotely surprised by anything that occurred in Voldemort's past. There was no shocked gasp or outraged demand of horror from anyone when Harry retold the latest memory; Cassy did not even bother to raise an eyebrow as she ate her porridge.

During the two memories, it became apparent that once Tom Riddle had graduated school he had tracked down his mother's family and, in turn, found his father's. Possessing his uncle Morfin, he used him to kill Tom Riddle Sr. and his two grandparents. No one was certain as to why. It could possibly have been scorn for being abandoned as a child, or his simple hatred of muggles and in killing them he had expected to release himself from the relationship they shared. Either way, everyone nodded silently as Harry spoke, urging him on with no particular reaction. Morfin had later confessed to the murder, false memories obscuring the Veritasium's ability to discern the truth. He died in prison.

When the tale was finished, Harry turned to Cassy hopefully. He said, 'You don't have any idea what a Horcrux is, do you?'

Pausing for a moment, Cassy frowned. 'I am afraid not. Why?'

'Dumbledore showed me another memory, this time from Slughorn. Riddle asked what a Horcrux was and Slughorn answered him, but the answer in the memory is a lie.' He visibly slumped in his seat. 'Dumbledore wants me to persuade Slughorn to give me the real memory, rather than the one where he batted Tom from his room in disgust. There's more to the conversation than just the actual definition, Dumbledore thinks. He reckons there might be a clue on how to defeat Voldemort, but Slughorn won't give it up. It's a really dark piece of magic.'

Cassy playfully narrowed her eyes. 'I appreciate being your go-to person for that, then.'

The task was not a simple one. It was not a matter of simply asking for the memory or the Headmaster would have done so himself. There was obviously something in Harry that he believed would persuade the other professor to reveal a guarded secret, one so precious that he believed it could possibly expose a way to remove Voldemort's tyranny once and for all. Only, Cassy had no idea what a Horcrux was. She delved into dark magic in her studies and her family had not been shy about it, but no such word had ever been mentioned to her memory. She could not recall something so dark that the Headmaster, who never shied from frank honesty, would not even explain what it was until he knew for certain if it was true or not.

'There's something else,' he said, leaning forward. 'He's asked me not to tell anyone but you three.'

'What?' said Neville. 'What about Luna and Ginny? Surely he doesn't mean exclude them?'

Harry gave a small nod. 'I asked and he said it was better if only we know. I don't know why, but he was really definite about it.'

Cassy tilted her head. That was a curious command. They were not any more likely to tell his secrets than the rest of them.

It was not until break later that morning that the four teens were able to regroup to discuss exactly what Harry's plan was to persuade Professor Slughorn to give him the real memory. They found a secluded spot down by the lake on the recumbent limb of a giant, curving tree. A quick spell easily created a cover so the damp bark from thick overnight snowfall did not seep into their winter coats as they sat across it, quite far enough from any prying ears; there were always many of those.

'You are going to have to think of a good plan,' said Hermione dispassionately. 'If he won't hand it over for the sake of the war to Dumbledore, you're going to struggle.'

Harry sighed, 'I was kind of hoping he might like me enough that if I just asked him he would change his mind.'

'You should work your way up into his absolute favourites. Your mother was one of them and he likes you enough for a foundation, perhaps...' Cassy paused for a second, her mind dismissing her first suggestion: to use Professor Slughorn's love of his late mother to make him help end the battle she had perished in, but Harry would certainly not like that idea at all, '..play to your similarities. What did he like about her?'

'He said she was cheeky,' he said and shrugged uselessly. 'You know I don't stop to chat with him.'

'You might need to in order for him to like you more,' said Neville with a sympathetic smile.

'Make him feel needed and ask some minor favours, a little bit of guidance too. That is what I do occasionally and it works a treat,' suggested Cassy simply.

It was true that Professor Slughorn loved to be useful. There was no greater form of flattery than being needed and having someone, particularly those with a talent of their own, to seek him out and ask something of him that they thought only he could give them. Even if it was a thought or two on a piece of text, or if it was the reading of an essay he was always pleased to help a select few in return for accumulative life-long gratitude.

At the end of break, they had not formulated any sort of a plan. For everything Harry was good at, he was not a natural tactician. Exactly what he had decided to do was still to be seen as they entered the Dungeon classroom, though Cassy and Hermione dearly hoped he had some sort of an idea. He had yet to make up his mind as they took their seats, his beside Hermione and Cassy's beside Ernie, still on the opposite side of the room for as long as he was considered a rival in her favourite subject.

As Professor Slughorn wrote across the chalkboard in large, curling letters, Cassy turned and nodded questioningly at Harry. He nodded back slowly. His assurance was weak. He needed to plan more before he risked making a mistake that would make the task more difficult for him.

The lesson was on antidotes. Cassy mentally recited Golpalott's third law: "the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to or more than the sum of the neutraliser for each of the separate components". Their task was to identify and create a suitable antidote for a nameless poison they selected from the front desk; it was not something taught in their textbook. The Half-Blood Prince was useless. It required no less than a deep and genuine understanding of each ingredient.

It became apparent very quickly from the huffing and puffing that soon filled the room that many people did not possess such knowledge. The trick was not to look for each individual solution, but to consider things which would cancel out multiple ingredients and blend with the existing solution rather than form something more toxic. Hermione's constant mutterings droned dully beneath the crackling of the little fires and the bubbling of bright solutions. Ernie's cauldron was a murky brown colour and Malfoy's was steaming fiercely. By the end of the lesson, Cassy's was watery and dark-blue – perfect, and Professor Slughorn told her so.

'Magnificent,' he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. 'Excellent. You know your stuff, Miss Black, you truly do. Ten points to Gryffindor.'

Cassy smiled down at the cauldron, proudly inwardly preening at the praise. She pointedly ignored the scowls that turned to her with jealousy. It was a difficult task and everyone must have been aware by then that their Professor loved to set impossible assignments to test them. That did not stop Ernie nearly sticking his face in her cauldron to get a better look.

'Almost, Miss Granger,' said Professor Slughorn and Cassy turned to listen. Immediately, she spotted the new heights Hermione's bushy hair had been lifted to.

'Stressed?' she mouthed and Hermione curled her lips down and tried to flatten her hair uselessly.

Next, Professor Slughorn turned to Harry. His shoulders slumped and Hermione smirked triumphantly at his undoubtedly disastrous attempt. Then, Harry lifted his hand and unwrapped his fingers to reveal a small, dark object, no larger than a garden pebble.

'A Bezoar!' boomed Professor Slughorn with a thunderous laugh. 'Oh, how like your mother you are, Harry. Ten points to Gryffindor for sheer audacity!'

When he moved away to inspect the last of the class, Cassy departed from her desk and slipped into a spare seat at Harry and Hermione's table.

'Cheeky,' she drawled, resting her chin on her hand. Her eyes then slid towards Hermione, who stared down at her cooling concoction with resigned unhappiness. 'This is my best subject, you know. I genuinely enjoy it and I grew up around them.'

Hermione turned to her. She said nothing in return and the unhappiness did not slip from her face. It was little to do with her, she decided at the lack of response, it was because of Harry's sudden perceived abilities and Professor Slughorn's blindness to their fragility. Frustration always quickly boiled into spitting rage with Hermione, so Cassy quickly shepherded her from the classroom as the bell rang. She turned and nodded in encouragement to Harry, who slowly began to pack his belongings in his bag, none the wiser to his plan, if he had one at all.

It later became apparent that he had settled for flattery and had had no luck whatsoever with it. He went about it entirely wrong, too forward and disastrously mimicking the young Tom Riddle with his words and mannerisms. It had sent Professor Slughorn into a frenzy and he had ejected Harry forcefully from the room without even a curt word of departure.

Formulating another plan was proving a tedious task. Cassy had no time to help. That statement alone was enough to make him growl and groan, but she truly had no time to sit down and work out a finely detailed plan of how to persuade a charismatic man to divulge what was probably his darkest secret. There was always something else on her mind and even if there had not been, Harry made it very difficult to talk to him when his obsession with trailing Malfoy at ever opportunity had yet to fade. In fact, Cassy almost thought it was getting more intense as January's days trundled on and February threatened to show itself. Hermione had taken over visiting the restricted section to find information about Horcruxes, but that too had yielded little results.

In a rare moment of peace in the last week since the failed persuasion attempt, Cassy found herself deep in thought over something trivial as she stirred the simmering Polyjuice Potion. It would be complete on February sixth, four days after her and Harry's one year anniversary. She pondered over what to do and what to get him as she sat on the stone floor of the disused toilets. It was possible Hogsmeade would not even be an option, given Katie Bell's attack months prior. The fear was still raw with many of the students and even more so amongst their parents. Even if Hogsmeade was available, she had no idea what they would do. The last year was fun because they explored the Shrieking Shack at last and she still refused to enter Madam Puddifoot's shop because it would be ghastly that close to Valentine's Day.

She hummed and looked to Neville, who stood some distance behind her, attempting to flatten a stray lock of his blond hair in the mirror. He had chosen to accompany her today. Their time was filled with idle chatter and comfortable silences as part of a peaceful break they both felt they needed from work.

'Have you got any ideas for Valentine's Day?' she asked, not at all serious nor hopeful that he would have any good suggestions. Yet, her interest peaked when she saw his reflection steadily bloom into a deep crimson.

'I'm going to ask Luna out,' he blurted suddenly; his face only darkened when Cassy smirked.

'Good,' she said. 'How?'

'How?' he repeated, turning to look at her face to face.

'Yes – how? You must have a plan,' she said.

He fidgeted and looked down at his shoes. 'Well, I thought about getting her flowers, I know loads of their meanings and although she might not get it straight away, I thought – but then what if she says no? What would I do with them then? That would just make it more awkward...'

Luna had excitedly informed Cassy of nearly everything that had happened whilst she was at Professor Slughorn's party on the last day of term. No detail had been spared in her retelling of her and Neville's secret excursion to the greenhouses and all of the plants he had shown her, even the ones he had been growing as personal projects for no reason other than his own interest. She had, in turn, shown him where she had last seen a Snorklapper, though Cassy was still uncertain exactly what that was, before they had gone to the kitchens for tea and cake where they chatted until the early hours of the morning. The only issue lay in the fact that Neville had been completely unaware it had been a date.

'Maybe I could make her favourite dessert, but no, I can't cook...' he continued to mumble.

Cassy smiled to herself.

They would be fine.

Neville shifted. For a moment, Cassy paid him no attention, but the action did not stop. Whatever was on his mind was clearly on its way to his lips, just reluctantly. She stared at him expectantly until he caught sight of her action and sighed heavily.

'What are we going to tell Luna and Ginny about Slughorn?' he asked.

'We have been told not to tell them anything,' said Cassy nonchalantly.

'I don't think I can lie to them,' he said.

Cassy stirred the potion, not glancing from its murky surface. She did not think he was capable of lying to them either, but it was true enough that they would have to tell them something soon. It would only be a matter of time before questions began to arise and the offence caused by the action, however prompted it was, would increase dramatically. She hummed.

'Ask Harry what he would like to say. It is his mission, not ours.'

That fact only made it all the more curious; to pick and chose who knew when the Headmaster was already aware of their knowledge of the memories was very strange, but Cassy was not in a position to question it, not then.

* * *

As February finally arrived, Cassy had still not developed any more free time. Her alchemy project was consuming, her Polyjuice potion even more so. On occasion, she still checked to see how Malfoy was fairing now that her visits to the Slytherin common room had become a comfort to Astoria, who faired no better than she had before the end of the previous term, though she was much more cheerful about her exile; the friends she had made in Dumbledore's Army had moved to take her in when her own House would not. Some nights she did not go to her dormitory, her things scattered and torn no doubt waiting for her arrival, sometimes she slept on a sofa in the common room and other times she was whisked away to the Hufflepuff common room by Susan Bones. Susan had reached out at the sight of her misery, her own voice loud in the crowd of Harry's supporters following her aunt's death. The Hufflepuffs were wary, but no one reported Astoria's visits to their Head of House. Ernie had even said he thought Professor Sprout might be aware of it, but if she was, she did nothing to stop it.

What took even more of Cassy's limited time were the numerous letters she received. Professor Dumbledore sometimes informed her he had sent some in return on her behalf and other times she merely got what her father had forwarded to her as pieces of interest. All of her work meant that she had to decline her invitation to the upcoming Slugclub gathering. Harry, despite his blunder, had also been invited and although many mixed emotions surfaced at the invitation, he swallowed his distaste and accepted.

Upon returning, he also vowed never to do it again unless she accompanied him.

'It was awful,' he said. 'We all just sat around a table while Slughorn prattled on about this and that.' He slung his tie onto the back of the sofa where he had collapsed into a heap.

'You are back early,' said Cassy, curled in the far corner of the same sofa, surrounded by parchment.

'Yeah, well, he's not keen to keep me longer than he has to nowadays.'

February brought with it surprisingly mild weather, more cheerful than the frost and a dull Sun that did not blind like the usual winter light. The snow had begun to recede in the final week of January and green stalks of grass protruded bravely. The sky was blue for the first time in months though clouds still drifted, but this time lazily and without the threat of further snowfall. Unfortunately, the Hogsmeade visit that would usually have been scheduled for the first Saturday of the month was indeed cancelled as suspected, not only because of Valentine's Day mid-month, but because it was the first day of the eagerly awaited Apparition lessons.

Purposefully, Cassy had made room for the weekend to be clear. Whilst she had crammed all her other necessary activities into other days, she had made room for Saturday to be an entertaining, relaxing day and for Sunday, their anniversary, to be whatever it was going to be without any interruptions. Harry's present was already wrapped and tucked beneath her bed. Pavarti had cooed at the sight of it when she realised what the occasion must have been. Lavender, on the other hand, had yet to forgive Cassy for her comment over a month ago. It was not as though Cassy had tried to apologise, because she simply did not care enough to do so and she quite enjoyed the space the other girl was giving her. Usually, Lavender was giggly and noisy, but with her anger still alight, she often fell silent when Cassy was present and rarely spent more time than needed in a room with her when the room was empty enough for her to notice her presence.

Hermione hardly helped matters. Any desire she had to fix things with Ron was gone. She continued to avoid talking to him, though she held her ground when they were forced to share a space; she no longer turned on her heel and ran, leaving the air between them stiff and stifling.

'I am so glad I don't have to take the test until August,' said Neville as they loitered outside the Great Hall the rest of their year. They had seen the Apparition instructor arrive as they ate breakfast. At first, no one was certain who he was, too bubbling and enthusiastic to be a Ministry official and too talkative to be any sort of examiner. He was a strange man, short in height and with a thick head of dark hair. He had a wide, wonky smile and eyed the castle as though it was nothing more than the highest pleasure to have returned.

Ginny stood with them, broomstick over her shoulder and scarlet kit bundled in her other arm. She sighed heavily, once again reminded that her friends were older than she was.

'You're lucky,' she said.

'I can't wait to take the test,' said Hermione eagerly. 'I've read all about it, I know the theory, but what it must actually feel like - '

'It feels terrible,' interrupted Harry flatly. 'The first time I Side-Apparated I puked in Cassy's kitchen sink.'

'You have an aversion to any transport that's not flying,' quipped Ginny and Harry shrugged carelessly.

'If I could fly everywhere then I would. Oh, that reminds me, Cassy, you need to free up some time, I still need to teach you Quidditch.'

Cassy scowled and Ginny snorted loudly. Harry's straight face crumpled quickly and he grinned down at her.

'I am busy for the rest of my life if having free time means learning to play that,' she drawled flatly.

He laughed, 'Flying, though.'

'Flying. I will go flying with you,' she conceded. 'Flying on a Thestral.'

'It's not the same!' he protested. 'Besides, how weird must it look if you can't see them? We'd just be hovering in the air like we're sitting on a chair.'

'I tried not to think about that last year,' admitted Neville, frowning.

When the doors opened, Ginny took it as her cue to depart down to the Quidditch Pitch for extra practice with the other Chasers. Reluctantly, everyone filed inside. The sixth-years scattered into clusters throughout the Great Hall, creating little pockets far away from any other group. Ron was on the other side of the hall with Lavender. Hermione pointedly turned her head in another direction. Suddenly and enthusiastically, she engaged Neville in a conversation about their Herbology homework.

On the other hand, Ginny and Dean seemed to be doing better than before. Despite the doubts Cassy had that Dean would be able to follow her advice of allowing Ginny her space – he was, after all, a genuinely nice person who wanted to make the best happen for all – he had backed away from his niggling little tendencies to coddle her. She seemed happier and so did he and for the last week, Cassy had not heard of a single argument between the two. Although, Ginny had commented how strange it was on several occasions. Cassy was not convinced it would last. Dean was perpetually too nice and it was only a matter of time before it began to override his forced detachment.

A loud clap rang through the hall.

'Hello, everyone!' called a cheerful, mid-toned voice. A man dressed in yellow Ministry clothing stood at the head of the hall. Behind him, Professor McGonagall stood tall and stiff. Her face clearly warned against nonsense, but not as severely as Professor Snape's did. He gazed around the room, his dark eyes drinking in every expression and every tiny movement. For a moment, his eyes lingered on their group at the far back. 'It's great to see so many excited faces. Now, can everyone get into a space with at least five feet between them and all others?'

Everyone stepped into a space of their own, muttering and nudging others from their claimed areas. When Cassy turned to survey her space, she noticed something was amiss. A large area had opened up behind her. Quickly, she scanned the room and spotted the messy head of dark hair slinking away through the dotted bodies, his back to her. Ahead of Harry, she saw a few Ravenclaws and then, beyond them, was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle huddled and whispering.

Cassy sighed heavily.

Neville turned to her with a curious brow raised.

'Okay, is everyone ready? Right, the Apparation wards have been lifted on the Great Hall for an hour for this practice, though I don't expect any of you to manage it today. I'm Wilkie Twycross.' He paused as though expecting a chorus of greetings and when none came, he waved his wand and a wooden hoop appeared in front of everyone.

'Mr. Malfoy, quiet!' barked Professor McGonagall.

Cassy turned in time to see him flush a faint pink. Her eyes flicked down to his sides, his wand was drawn, his fist tense and his body half angled towards Harry. He sneered and Harry smirked back.

Twycross cleared his throat. 'There are three "Ds" for Apparition: destination, determination, and deliberation. For this, your destination will be the interior of your hoop in front. Step one: focus your mind on your desired destination. Do so now.'

There were a few peering heads of people eagerly checking what the others were doing, but most settled on staring intensely at their respective hoop. It was not difficult for Cassy to push away all other intruding thoughts, except when everything else was removed all she could feel was her irritation at Harry's snooping. Instead of her mind being blissfully focused, she was now annoyed.

Why will he not just leave it be? She internally huffed as she glowered at the hoop. She had it under control and if she could not find anything with the Polyjuice potion then it really ought to be left alone for Professor Dumbledore – their leader – to do what he will. In all honestly, she believed he knew what was happening on some level, perhaps not everything, for he too missed details, but she refused to believe he would miss something as serious as Malfoy being a Death Eater. Professor Snape would have told him. After all, he had missed such signs before in the First War and James and Lily had died.

Why would Harry not let her handle the remnants?

A sharp scream pierced the air. All the noise Cassy had drowned out to think was then gone, vanished in an instance, leaving only the agonised cries from across the hall. Students staggered backwards, hands clamped over mouths and groans of disgust. The teachers swooped from the front, clearing the mass wordlessly. It was only then that Cassy saw what had happened.

Blood splattered across the light stone tiles. It ran and seeped into the crevices of the joints, meeting seamlessly and moving to run down another line of grouting as it continued to pour. Susan Bones screamed and screamed, her hands flailed as she was torn between gripping her leg and trying to push the wound away altogether. Beneath her knee, the leg was missing. Not so much missing, Cassy corrected herself, it was just mislaid several feet away outside of her wooden hoop.

Quickly, a curtain was erected and with a great puff of purple smoke, Madam Pomfrey announced the limb was back where it belonged.

'That, students, is called Splinching,' said Twycross dispassionately. 'It happens when there is not enough focus.'

Cassy swore to limit her nagging thoughts for moments she was not Apparating.

By the end of the lesson, Susan's lost limb was still the most interesting part and everyone had developed a deep loathing for Twycross' 'three D' rules.

* * *

 **This is a short chapter. Another should be up within a couple of days, if not tomorrow.**

 **This one is largely a connecting chapter, though it sets up a few things for later on for my own plots as well. It just mostly deals with the canon plot.**

 **Anyway, I hope you like it. I should update within the next few days, so read and review to let me know what you think!**

 **Thanks!**


	19. As Astoria

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XIX: As Astoria**

It was really the fault of the keen eyes that trailed Harry's every move that a covert trip to Hogsmeade could not be made on their one year anniversary. Despite that it was a weekday and fear was still rife with the possible attacks to students if they were to venture beyond the ancient castle's borders, it very much was down to the constant surveillance that Harry was under that was truly to blame. There was no possible way the Auroras in the village would let the pair be and even if they were bundled beneath the cloak there was little enjoyment to be had when no one would be able to speak or touch anything. Besides, it was a lot of effort and planning to fit into a single lunch hour.

Instead, the pair sat beneath the willow tree they had liked since first year, simply telling stories of their bouts of accidental magic as young children. A woollen blanket was underneath them, protecting them from the frozen ground, and a jar of fire flickered between them. Harry laughed as Cassy described how the leaves of a bush she had been hiding in had grown around her at four-years-old; she had been hiding from her Latin tutor and refused to be found until Alphard came home, although he was furious with her. Harry's own incident was when he had changed a teacher's wig to bright blue when he had picked on him in favour of his idiotic cousin. The next time was when he had been chased and he had caught the passing wind and been deposited high on the school roof.

'So you have always favoured flying then?' she said and he nodded.

'Always,' he grinned.

She leant back onto her elbows and peered at the clouded winter sky that peeked through the intertwining branches above. 'I suppose you will have to teach me to fly again soon.'

He turned to her in delight. 'Do you have the time, though?'

'The Polyjuice Potion will be done in four days, some of my time will free up then and my Alchemy project is due in in March,' said Cassy.

'Good,' he nodded.

'I am sorry about being so busy. I am trying.'

'Don't worry about it. It's annoying that whenever you're free I have Quidditch practice,' he sighed.

Though the pair had tried to make time for one another, particularly time away from their friends, it was difficult. If Cassy was not doing school work, she was writing letters and Harry was either busy trailing Malfoy – nothing had come of it yet – or training his team for their upcoming matches. They always tended to be in the same room as one another and they chatted, but it was not really ever time together in the sense they wanted; they never just enjoyed each other's company. They were always partially busy with other things.

With the potion so close to completion, Cassy could see the end in sight. When she would not have to check the potion several times a day and when Harry could be sedated with the information she would find, then the pair could find a semblance of the normality they had found the year before, if anything under Umbridge's rule could be deemed "normal". She and Astoria had made thorough plans regarding nearly every aspect of the day. Astoria was less concerned by Cassy's intentions with her body, although undeniably curious, and more interested in gallivanting through the Gryffindor common room and seeing if they were really as conceited and fool-hardy as they all let on. She was certain they were; Cassy had to agree.

On the other hand, Cassy had not definitive expectations of the day. Astoria and Malfoy were not even close. She had mentioned that Malfoy had been much kinder to her lately, less inclined to spit insults at her association with Cassy and Dumbledore's Army than before, which she put down to stress. They had all noticed his paling skin and the darkening rings around his eyes. His hands shook, Astoria had commented, not when doing anything in particular, they just simply shook. She had not mentioned it to him and in the last month worked tirelessly on building a sort of civil relationship that she had had years before. Yet, they were not children anymore and Malfoy no longer adored anyone who would give him a second glance; he no longer preened under positive attention or the promise of praise. He wanted to be left very much alone and even Crabbe and Goyle knew nothing of his plans – Harry had overheard that.

Yet, when the day came for Cassy and Astoria to swap clothes in the haunted girls' toilets, Cassy was certain she would learn something of her cousin's misadventure. She stood in front of a cracked mirror, inspecting the green and silver tie around her neck and how the green lapels on the robe suited her pale complexion. Behind her, Harry eyed the clothing with raised eyebrows while Stephen grinned. Despite neither of them having been invited, they both arrived to watch the event unfold.

'You would have suited being in Slytherin,' said Stephen, arms crossed.

'That is what the hat said too,' said Cassy non-committally.

In the reflection, she saw Stephen glance to Harry for a reaction on such a revelation, but he had none at all, it was as though the words had passed straight through his ears.

'You could have at least been in Ravenclaw,' moaned Astoria, emerging from a nearby stall dressed in black and scarlet. 'Red's not my colour at all.'

There was a loud whimper from one of the sinks; Myrtle was making her way up the pipes.

'And you two are sure about this?' asked Stephen for what must have been the tenth time since Astoria had told him about their deal. 'I mean, I wouldn't trust Astoria to be me for any length of time.'

'Oh, I have some respect for Cassy, you, on the other hand, would not know what hit you,' retorted Astoria.

'Harry,' came a giggling voice.

Cassy slid her eyes to see the ghost of a long-deceased school girl floating high behind them. Her round glasses obscured her young face, but did not hide the glint in her eyes.

'Harry,' she repeated, 'I was wondering when I would see you again. I haven't forgotten last time, with you in the bath... surrounded by bubbles... do you remember?'

Ignoring his girlfriend's enquiring frown, Harry gritted his teeth and replied dully, 'Vividly.'

Covering her pearly cheeks with her hands, Myrtle giggled and swooped in the air.

'Moving on,' demanded Harry and turned to Cassy, who nodded before plucking out one of her long, black hairs. Astoria did the same and they both dropped them carefully into the bubbling liquid in the beakers before them. Immediately, they both shifted colour. Astoria's was a somewhat lighter gold than Cassy remembered her sister's potion to be and it was a far cry from the horrid, murky brown Crabbe and Goyle's had been.

'There's no way you are that pure-hearted,' said Astoria, eyeing the golden beaker suspiciously.

'You should be thankful,' drawled Cassy, 'it's disgusting enough as it is.'

Astoria raised an eyebrow. 'You have done this before?'

Cassy did not respond and instead tipped her head back and forced the thick liquid down her throat. Much of the sourness that had riled her taste-buds and churned her stomach last time was gone, though it was by no means a pleasurable experience. It was thick like custard, but it bubbled as it slipped down into her stomach. Though it tasted like very little, Astoria's golden sheen was neither sweet nor bitter, it sent jolts through her body, from her centre to her extremities, like continuous bolts of lightening.

When she looked up, she saw large, dark-blue eyes, high cheekbones, a thin nose, and pink lips that were so slightly parted in a look of utter surprise to reveal straight, white teeth. She was staring back at herself. It was peculiar to see her image move and turn from her independently, to see herself from a different angle, particularly from above. She moved Astoria's, now her own, curly blonde hair from her eyes; she tied her own hair up for a very good reason – it was incredibly annoying.

Astoria turned to Cassy and grinned. Immediately, Cassy frowned, unsure if she always looked that stupidly giddy when she smiled widely. A quick glance towards Harry's horrified face told her everything.

'Don't pull that face,' said Astoria. 'Your scowl still looks like yours.'

'Your smile makes me look ridiculous,' retorted Cassy.

'Give me some leeway, I have agreed to be tiny for the day.'

Astoria was almost half-a-head taller than Cassy in her own body.

'Be quiet, Aster,' said Cassy, disinterested.

Astoria's borrowed face scrunched into a visible sulk. Harry snorted at the foreign expression and Stephen mumbled about the oddness of it all. It was peculiar, but Cassy had few other choices. The tactics they had used as children would no longer service to ensure whoever she polyjuiced into would be unaware of what had happened. Malfoy was as twitchy as a rabbit; his startled eyes caught everything lately, each passer-by, every brush of an arm or a hidden whisper. He never met her eye, though he must have known she was watching. He was always so careful to avoid her.

'Come here,' said Cassy, pulling a hairband from around her wrist. Astoria's new hair was down and Cassy simply never wore it like that. Quickly, she swept the thick, long, black hair up into a messy bun like the one she had had all that day. She brushed her own now blonde hair from her face once more. It was going to drive her mad.

'Cleansweep,' she said, though really she did not need the confirmation of the Slytherin password another time. Still, Astoria nodded.

'And yours is "Jellylegs",' she said.

They nod at one another and depart with no more than a mutual warning not to get the other into any trouble. Whilst Cassy's intentions were dangerous in the sense of uncovering a plot given by the Dark Lord, she still viewed Astoria's actions to be far more troublesome. Astoria wanted to have _fun_.

Slowly, Harry waved and walked in the other direction Cassy did, trailing behind Astoria as she marched towards the Great Hall for a quick dinner. With a sigh, Cassy looked up at Stephen, who grinned, hands carelessly in his pockets. He chuckled to himself the entire way down to the entrance hall. Here, he departed, having arranged to meet his girlfriend after her Friday evening Herbology club.

Cassy continued down the stone steps and into the dungeons. Malfoy always left to go wherever it was he went to at half-six, after Crabbe and Goyle had a chance to eat. He hardly ate himself. Ducking down a narrow, deserted corridor, Cassy pulled the folded Marauder's Map from an inside pocket of her Slytherin robes. A murmur revealed the swirling, inky lines that made up the detailed and extraordinary floor-plans of the castle. After several turns of the many folded flaps, the Slytherin common room was revealed, only to raise one alarming fact – Malfoy was not there.

Cassy hissed. He was always there. She had been watching his movements carefully for the last four weeks. Friday was always the day he vanished without a trace, Crabbe and Goyle would always be lurking in one of the upstairs corridors, never together and often pacing. Sometimes they would circulate and whatever it was they were doing would often last for hours at a time. His behaviour was erratic on Saturdays and Sundays, always gone early or not returning until sometime in the dead of night. Sometimes he would be pacing in the boys dormitory or sometimes he would be on the grounds, but he was usually alone either way. Fridays were supposed to be her best chance at following him because Astoria would be in the Great Hall with Harry pretending to be her. There would be no suspicion of where she was, no paranoia that had flashed across his face when she entered late one day from class. He was too aware of them to allow a simple trailing. Now, though, he had disappeared anyway.

Frantically, she pulled and twisted the map until she spotted two tiny names on the seventh floor. Crabbe and Goyle were together, simply standing, most likely talking. They were never together and never in the same place on the seventh floor.

Cassy stared, dumbstruck. She knew that part of the castle. It was where the Room of Requirement was. They were directly outside of it.

'How could I be so stupid?' she cursed under her breath. Of course that was where he had been hiding, it did not appear on the map.

Her entire plan was ruined anyway. She had hoped to catch Crabbe and Goyle before they left for dinner and talk to them for a few moments. She wanted to test their Occlumency barriers. If they were present, which she was confident they were not, then she would find another method of tricking them into giving her information, but if they were non-existent, then she would rummage through their minds to see for herself what Malfoy had been doing all this time. Cassy was by no means wholly proficient in the art yet, but she had yet to give up her studies. Sometimes, she could see emotions swimming at the forefront of another's mind, in their eyes and on their faces; the more she learnt to school her own features the more open everyone else's seemed. This was supposed to be her big test of her abilities. If she failed, if she went in too hard and they noticed, then she would simply drop a lightning ball from the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and indignantly pretend they had all been shocked by that. Then, she would try again in the haze.

However, she had no opportunity to do that now. They would wonder why she was on the seventh floor.

'Let's think of an excuse then, shall we?' she muttered to herself and stepped from the dark hall.

'Astoria!'

Her shoulders slumped. Turning, she spotted one of the few people she really wanted to avoid.

'Daphne,' she greeted. The sisters did not interact openly in front of Cassy. In fact, the last time she had seen them exchange more than a few words was in her third-year before she and Astoria had really become friends. Astoria had been more energetic then. Did she still behave like that with her sister?

'What are you doing down there?' asked Daphne, raising an eyebrow.

'Checking for my homework before I got back to the common room,' lied Cassy easily. 'I thought I might have left it in the library and I have.'

Daphne frowned. 'You told me you had done all your homework.'

Now Cassy frowned. 'I have. I just need to go back and get it.'

Daphne settled on a pointed expression that Cassy could only liken to one Percy used to give his younger siblings. 'Well, I'll come with you to get it and then we can go and see Laura Chantry's new snake. It was shipped in this morning, but no one knows about it yet.'

Before Cassy could think of an excuse to go alone, Daphne had set off down the corridor. She sighed to herself quietly. Nothing was going to plan. Yet, by the time the two had reached the library, their walk only punctuated by occasional comments, Cassy had thought of a third plan. Mainly, it involved forcing Daphne to follow her around the library aimlessly, until the other was frustrated enough that they could separate to cover more ground and Cassy could slip away. It was a loose plan, the simplest one she had had all day, but after wandering between tables for almost ten minutes, Daphne had clearly had enough.

Cassy sighed dramatically. 'I'm going to ask Madam Pince if anything had been turned in. _Unless_...' she paused thoughtfully, 'unless Stephen might have picked it up. He should be around here somewhere.'

Daphne grunted. 'For Merlin's sake. Go and find him then and I'll speak to Madam Pince.'

Pausing shortly to make it appear as though she had to think about where to start, Cassy darted away into the maze of towering bookshelves. She made a wide circle towards the door, halting only at the sound of an unwanted voice.

'Greengrass.'

Of all times to have a conversation, she did not want one with Shandy right at that moment.

'Oh, be quiet,' she hissed under her breath. She fixed him with a deep scowl. His attention visibly peaked.

'Oh, you haven't,' he said slowly.

'What I have and have not done in none of your business, Shandy,' she retorted coolly, but it just made him laugh.

'That scowl and tone, I would know them anywhere! Dear Lord, Black, do you ever stop?'

For a second, Cassy could not think. How was it possible that he could recognise her so easily? He had done it last time and he had done so again. So easily he could unravel her identity by merely knowing her traits. It was ridiculous. It was dangerous.

'I am glad I can entertain you,' she replied an instant later, knowing there was no use in denying what he already knew.

'You do,' he said brightly.

She stared for a moment longer than necessary. 'You are infuriating.'

'So are you, trying to save the world instead of yourself. You are supposed to be the cleverest person I have ever met.' His tone was not teasing, as strange was that was. It was merely as though he had stated a fact, conversational and meaningless.

It was not.

'I have told you before,' she said despite the urgent need to leave and find Malfoy ringing through her mind, 'I hate being controlled. If you think about it that way, I am saving myself.'

She left, then. With quickened footsteps, she slipped from the library unnoticed by Daphne, who must have doubled back to find her sister already. She did not run, but weaved through the passing students hastily and impatiently leapt from one staircase to the next when they were close enough. The seventh floor was empty, except a small pair of footprints outside of the same wall they had been before. Goyle was gone and there was no time to locate him. She rounded the corner and halted.

In front of her was not Crabbe as it should have been, but a little red-haired girl no older than twelve. The girl jumped and dropped the cauldron she had been clutching noisily on the stone floor. Everything about this was _wrong_ , so sloppily done she had to sigh at her cousin's planning.

'Are you alright?' she asked the girl, no doubt Crabbe, indifferently. 'What are you doing with a cauldron in the evening?'

Even up this close, she was unable to tell if it was a glamour charm or Polyjuice potion.

'Mind your own business!' the child snapped, suddenly unafraid.

She eyed Crabbe lazily. 'What House are you from?'

His whirling thoughts were almost visible in his eyes, trying desperately to think of a House Astoria might not be too familiar with or entirely unaware of where the disguise had come from if it had been stolen from an existing student. As it was, Cassy did not know the child at all and did not care. She did not need to expose his lie, she just needed him startled enough to open his mind.

She had only ever practised on Harry, who could hardly lie, so carefully, slowly, she focused on the blue-eyes in front and wrapped her magic around the other's exposed mind. Immediately, she could sense irritation, a burning desire to attack not only her but Malfoy. There was so much anger directed at him too, confusion for what it was all for and hatred, hatred because he had something Crabbe did not. Beneath that were memories, fragmented as his thoughts raced. She gripped one.

'Just stand there,' snapped Malfoy, pacing in the Slytherin common room. 'That's all you have to do!'

'But why?' demanded Goyle. 'What are you doing in there?'

'None of your business,' he retorted. 'If you do this for me then I will tell _him_ so. You will be rewarded in the end, but for now you have to trust me, or do you doubt _him_?'

Cassy released it and rummaged further.

'I'm fine!' roared Malfoy, kicking his trunk viciously. 'Who does he think he is, asking to help me? I don't need anyone's help!'

'Snape's fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord, I bet. He's probably trying to steal your glory and get himself back in his good books,' suggested Crabbe, laying on his bed.

Malfoy pulled at his white-blond hair. Beneath his eyes were dark circles, more evident than Cassy had ever seen them before. Even in the dim light of the dormitory fire, he looked sickly. His cheeks had never been that hollow before.

'I can't believe I had to leave it here over the holidays, if mother had not made me go home then I would have been done by now - '

'Leave what?' asked Goyle eagerly.

'None of your damn business!'

The next memory was lighter, airier and bright. Sunshine flooded in through the large, square train windows. Opposite sat Malfoy and Parkinson, her hand in his hair. He did not look ill this time. His skin was its normal healthy colour, no shadows haunted his eyes and his brow was not creased with the perpetual scowl that it had been for many months now.

'I wonder how many idiots are going to go running to Dumbledore about us this year,' said Parkinson, smiling spitefully. 'Everyone's afraid the person next to them is going to kill them, but if you ask me, if they stopped being Muggle Lovers then they would have nothing to worry about. If everyone just got together and cast the Mudbloods out no one would have anything to be afraid of.'

'Like Dumbledore's going to do that,' snorted Crabbe. 'He's the worst of the lot.'

'I bet he'll invite even more Mudbloods and monsters to try and _protect_ then. This year's going to be disgusting,' mocked Goyle.

'He won't be around for much longer,' said Malfoy, his grey-eyes turned to the window.

'What do you mean, Draco?' asked Parkinson.

'I don't care what that old coot has to say. Next year, either Dumbledore will be gone, or I will be. I don't think I will return, either way. I have outgrown this school and everyone in it.'

The words resonated in the silence.

Suddenly, Cassy relinquished her grip of Crabbe. Her head snapped to the slide. Another girl, blonde, this time, had flung herself around the corner.

'Oh, another cauldron,' she commented lightly.

'Leave my friend alone,' demanded the girl.

'I was asking if she was alright,' she said easily and took a step back.

Goyle was not placated by it, though. He crossed his arms and sneered in a ridiculous expression on the girl's cherub-like face.

'Go then! Why are you up here anyway?'

Cassy narrowed her eyes, not really bothered at all, but keen to keep up her disguise as Astoria.

'Watch your mouth, girl. I know some of your housemates and they don't tolerate rudeness. Even Gryffindors not that insolent,' she said lowly.

Foolish, foolish, foolish, she thought as she turned and strode beyond the two disguised Slytherins. She knew that second face. She was a first-year Gryffindor. How ridiculous of them to pick someone so recognisable with her angelic features and curly blonde hair; she could have laughed. As it was, her current thoughts left little room for amusement. The feeling died quickly and her mind was only occupied with the memories she had seen.

Harry and Astoria would still likely be in the common room, though she knew their time had to be nearing its end. A mouthful of the potion had hardly lasted for an hour before and she had wasted too much time in the library to have much left. Daphne was most likely looking for her now too, so her return to Myrtle's toilets had to be swift.

'Astoria!'

Cassy inwardly groaned. She considered continuing anyway and ignoring the voice, but she knew too well who it was; she would just be chased. Turning on the spot, she plastered a smile on her face and turned to face Astoria's older sister. Daphne had her eyebrows knitted down into a firm scowl and her hands on her hips.

'Yes?' she said expectantly.

'I was looking all over the library for you like a total fool,' snapped Daphne.

'Sorry,' she said completely insincerely. 'Stephen said he thought Cassy might have my homework, so I have been looking all over for her. I think she might be in the common room, so I was going to see if I could find one of her friends to pass on a message to bring it to breakfast tomorrow.'

Daphne continued to frown and Cassy knew the other must be hardened to her sisters' pleading, innocent looks by now. Despite that, she sighed and let her hands slip from her hips.

'Please be careful,' was all she said.

Cassy blinked. 'I always am.'

Alarms rang in her head. She could most likely manage a conversation with Daphne without exposing her disguise, but she would surely not manage a sisterly conversation. Cassy still had hardly any idea what to say when people she liked started to voice their concerns to her, let alone someone she knew rather vaguely and when she was not even the intended audience.

Cassy squashed down the awkwardness that rose within her.

Daphne scowled and let out a hollow laugh. 'Of course. So that's why Danielle cursed you the other day? Is that why half the House won't speak to you? Because you're so careful when you act?'

Now, Cassy frowned.

Daphne peered around them, her eyes searching for prying ears. There were not even portraits in this section of corridor, but her shoulders were stiff and her senses on high-alert. Her eyes settled back on the fraudulent form of her younger sister, blazing.

'I have told you before not to be so open about that. Why can't you do what the rest of us to and just keep your sympathies to yourself?' She did not give Cassy a chance to react. 'Black is reckless because she's always known she was never going to have the same expectations the rest of us would. Her name was too tainted from the start and she has always been too protected. Even as children, she was different to the rest of us and she knew it.'

Oh, thought Cassy resentfully, she did know she was different from the others, but she suspected it was for different reasons that Daphne believed.

'She has always had to fight to be seen as the rest of us are. You are too young to remember when she and I had dance lessons together, but it was infuriating to watch her practice. She was excellent and everyone knew it even if they would not say it. It scared our classmates because they knew they were supposed to be superior to her _dirty blood_ and no matter how hard they tried, they could not surpass her. Now look at her. She is tied for the top student in our year, she is a Lady of an Ancient and Noble House. She has an endless supply of gold and works alongside Dumbledore at seventeen-years-old. She has nothing to fear, Astoria. She excels without effort, there will always be something or someone ready to catch her.'

For a split second, all Cassy could do was stare blankly and consider her words. Her first thought was that Daphne was jealous, jealous from a childhood misunderstanding with their dance teacher – because Cassy was certain the woman had hated her – but then the words took a different tone. She was bitter, but not out of jealousy, not so much as a fear that Cassy was leading her sister into danger when she herself had nothing to lose. Her implied words were clear. Astoria did not have Cassy's luxuries.

Her shoulders dropped as she relaxed.

'I need to get my homework,' said Cassy softly.

Daphne frowned a little deeper again, but with a heavy sigh she nodded. 'Everything I say to you goes in one ear and out the other.'

Cassy cast a smile over her shoulder. 'No, I heard you. I am just choosing to ignore it.'

She hurried away from the sound of the exasperated huff. The further she got, the more certain she was that she had heard a small chuckle from the Slytherin girl.

Daphne had spoke of _others_. There were others in the House that did not support Voldemort and liked Muggleborns. It felt like a revelation, as though she had finally uncovered some deep secret that had been buried for centuries, though she had known it had always been true. The joy was dampened by the knowledge that Daphne thought Cassy was some sort of being above their own station; it was as though Daphne expected Cassy to be a voice without action. She thought she was leading Astoria into hell with no intention of being there with her. How many others thought that too?

Immediately, Cassy was greeted with an unhappy sigh when she entered the girls' toilets. Moaning Myrtle floated above and whined, no doubt hoping she was Harry. She locked herself in the third stall from the door on the left and extracted a bag from within the disused water tank. The Slytherin robe and tie were quickly exchanged for the familiar gold and red. She slipped off Astoria's shoes and stuffed them in the bag too. The bag was then slung in one of the sinks and she hopped up to perch on the rim of a porcelain basin.

For a time, she merely waited in silence. Content to sort through her thoughts, she paid no attention to Moaning Myrtle's groans. It was only when the door at the far end of the long room opened that she looked up. There were not two but three people that filed into the room. Noisy and breathless, Harry, Astoria, and Ginny hurried towards her. Astoria was no longer wearing a copy of Cassy's face. Her own features had returned and the bun Cassy had done for her earlier now had curls sticking out at strange angles.

'That was cutting it fine,' she commented and from the redness of all of their cheeks, they knew it too.

'We got sidetracked,' breathed Ginny, grinning. 'Astoria's hilarious.'

'I don't want to know,' said Cassy flatly.

'It's fine,' assured Astoria quickly but Cassy shook her head.

'Really,' she said.

She assumed that Ginny had been collected somewhere along the way in Astoria's mischief. All of her friends were aware of the plan, although some more informed than others, so it was natural that at the sight of something potentially amusing and abnormal that it was Ginny who had been drawn in. With a pleading look towards Harry, Cassy silently hoped the oncoming damage-control would not be severe. He grimaced back and mouthed, 'Later'.

As Astoria changed into her own tie and robe, Cassy told her about her encounter with Daphne.

'That's fine,' the other said dismissively. 'She's always mad at me, so it hardly matters.' She looped the tie through and pulled it neatly up to her neck. Then, she turned to look at Cassy with tensed features. 'Did you find what you were looking for?'

'Yes,' said Cassy.

'Good,' she responded, collecting her shoes from the sink and passing Cassy her own. 'I won't ask what it was you were doing, but you seem to be getting into something pretty deep.'

'There is nothing to worry about right now,' she said and Astoria fixed her with a hard stare.

'Stephen and I are worried about you.'

The statement took Cassy by surprise.

'I know you are going to tell us not to be, but we are. I admire you greatly, I always have, you know, but please don't do anything riskier than needs be.'

With that, Astoria slipped on her shoes and exited the bathroom. Cassy fought for something to say in return, but in the end, she watched her friend go in heavy silence as words escaped her. She hated it when people did that, when they showed concern for her in an indisputable manner. Harry often did it and Neville had on several occasions. She never knew what to say in return. It was one of those rare moments she was left completely flummoxed and far from her comfort zone.

When the door slammed shut, she breathed in deeply and looked at her shoes in her hands.

'We have a problem,' she announced steadily. 'I think Malfoy's task is intended to lead to Dumbledore's death.'

* * *

 **Right, so a little bit about why Daphne dislikes Cassy. She even got to test out her Legilimency for the first time. She's beating herself up for not realising Malfoy was hidden in the Room of Requirement, but when I read the book myself I was like 'Oh, for God's sake, I should have thought of that'.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. As always, let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks!**


	20. All kinds of confessions

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XX: All kinds of confessions**

Harry had taken the news badly. It was not as though Cassy had expected him to take it well, but his temper had flared and heated words had been batted between them for some time before he settled down into a quiet anger. It was then that she managed to explain exactly what it was she had discovered. It was a passing comment really, a statement that Voldemort was not going to wait any longer and that his target was Professor Dumbledore himself. How he intended to do that no one was sure. They all theorised, whether it was together or when alone in bed. The idea seemed ludicrous in itself, but also one that made a terrible amount of sense. He had to get rid of Professor Dumbledore one way or another, so why not begin with him?

Harry's eyes had widened as information clicked in his mind. There was a large cauldron of Polyjuice Potion in the classroom during their first lesson. It would have been easy to steal some during the chaos of the task and even then the potion must have been stored somewhere in the castle, available for use if someone were to find where it was hidden. Malfoy had not smuggled the ingredients in, but used what was to hand to ensure Crabbe and Goyle were not frequently seen loitering in the corridors, that was why no one had commented on their strange behaviours. They had been walking passed them for months and not realised it.

There was not much Cassy could say to dissuade Harry from charging down the corridor and strangling Malfoy in the oncoming days, but she did. If he attacked Malfoy then Professor Snape was obligated to take over and he would not have the same struggles Malfoy was seemingly having. It would only occur faster. Besides, she reasoned with him, she was certain the reason the Headmaster wanted them to leave it alone was because he already knew of the plot himself. There was nothing they could do, if, in fact, there was a plot at all.

That did not stop Harry bursting into the Headmaster's office and promptly being thrown out again with a threat of suspending his help with the Horcruxes if he did not leave it very well alone. Professor Dumbledore did not ask how they had come to that conclusion and for that they were thankful.

They did not see much of Malfoy in the oncoming days; outside of class, he was like a ghost, trailing the halls with no real presence and rarely appearing for meals. What he was doing exactly in the Room of Requirement was unknown to them still, but they now knew the strange children that loitered upstairs were Crabbe and Goyle, waiting to signal when it was dangerous for Malfoy to exit. Harry had tried many times to get into the Room of Requirement over the next week. The door never appeared for him. He was simply never asking for the right room.

Valentine's Day came and went. With Hogsmeade visits still cancelled, the two spent the day in idleness, wandering the grounds and visiting Hagrid and his new import of dangerous creatures. The decorations had returned to normal, subtle and almost non-existent with the exception of a few pink ribbons and roses in the common rooms. With no Umbridge to irritate, the décor was hardly worth worrying about. Neville did not ask Luna to spend the day with him. It was not until dinner that day that Cassy realised he had backed out with a dozen excuses about other things to do and reasons it was best to wait.

The days rolled by in February both too quick and too slow. The only mildly interesting occurrences were Apparition lessons. Everyone in their little group had managed to hop into the hoop, although Neville had left his hair behind at one point. He was just thankful it was not his entire scalp. A few more people had splinched themselves, though none as badly as the first. Mutterings grew through the sixth years as resentment flared for their instructor and his methods. No one seemed able to grasp his 'three D's' concept without spinning and falling flat on the floor at some point each and every lesson.

Though they had promised one another to all make time for DA gatherings, they had been sporadic thus far. There was not set time they were all free but they had finally found time one evening to study under the joint tutelage of Neville and Luna. They co-taught healing spells, though it proved difficult without anything to test them on. Cassy held out her arm.

'Break it,' she said suddenly.

'What?' said Harry blankly.

'Break my arm.'

' _What?_ '

'Break it. I don't want to do it myself,' she insisted, still holding the limb out towards him.

'No!' he protested, aghast.

'Oh, alright then. I tried.' She dropped down into a rickety old doctor's chair the Room of Requirement had conjured.

'You knew I wasn't going to do it! You just wanted to throw me off,' he accused.

'This room needs fresh tea,' she commented, peering around. There was a faint rattle and a teapot and several cups and saucers appeared on the little circular table beside her. 'Ah-ha!'

' _Cassy!_ '

When the chaos of that lesson ended – having brought more cuts and bruises than it had healed with Ginny's over-zealous spell work and Neville's natural lack of grace – the only remaining event to look forward to was Ron's seventeenth birthday. March first brought with it a very excited Ron, who fluttered back and forth in conversation to reiterate that once Easter was upon them he would be able to to do magic at home and no one could tell him otherwise. He seemed to forget that Cassy and Seamus were already seventeen and that no amount of magic would save him from Ginny's wrath if he brought it upon himself.

On the morning of his birthday, Cassy eyed Hermione in her bedside mirror as she twisted her hair into a fishtail plait.

'Have you got Ron anything?' she asked.

The other paused for a second as she pulled her own bushy hair into a ponytail. Without looking at her, Hermione replied, 'No. I never have before, so I don't see why I should start now.'

Cassy hummed. 'I brought him a bottle of Firewhisky, seeing as he liked mine so much. I had Plum import it to avoid the security checks.'

Although she frowned, Hermione said nothing. In all honesty, she and Ron had been making great progress since returning for Christmas. Hermione had steeled herself against Lavender and the pair's revolting displays of public affection had diminished since Cassy's sharp words in December. She blamed Hermione's icy mood on Lavender's loud wake-up call that morning; she squealed to Pavarti, asking what she should wear for her 'Won-Won's' special birthday and fumbled noisily with an armful of glittering parcels. While Hermione and Ron were on better terms, Hermione and Lavender were certainly not. They could not stand each other.

Faintly, Cassy heard Hermione sigh behind her.

'Hurry up then,' said Cassy, standing suddenly. She slipped on a pair of boots.

'Why? What's the rush?' asked Hermione.

'Up or I will leave you here,' she commanded.

There was no hurry, not really. Cassy knew that is they were quick they might be able to make it to the hall and eat breakfast before Ron and Lavender untangled from one another and save Hermione's spirits from dampening further. She could give Ron his present later.

'Fine, fine,' said Hermione ducking out the way of Cassy's shooing hands. She pulled the door open and halted; Cassy almost walked into her back. 'Oh, when will they learn and give it a rest?'

The staircase had vanished. What replaced it was a long, curling slide that only ever appeared when a boy became too daring and tried his luck with entering the girls' dormitories.

Without hesitation, Hermione stepped from the doorway and slipped down the slide, scowling. Cassy stepped out after her, her hands clamping to the handrail when the light of the common room breached the smooth corner and Hermione's back came back into focus. There were no sharp words spouting from her friend as she had expected from the Prefect, but it was then that Cassy took in who it was who had his foot on the staircase.

'Neville?' asked Hermione, surprised.

'Sorry,' he said quickly. 'I was hoping it would let me get up to get your help.'

'What's the matter?'

'It's Harry and Ron,' he said, already turning to head back to the boys' staircase. 'They're fighting, throwing punches and everything. I've separated them, but I don't know what to do!'

'What do you mean their fighting?' demanded Hermione as she and Cassy sprinted up the stairs behind him. A roaring yell pierced the air. Another mingled with it, the words becoming indistinguishable sounds as the two voices battled to be more vicious than other. When Neville threw open the door, the sound did not stop. Cassy slammed the door shut behind her and took in the sight of Harry and Ron with their wrists tied to opposing bed feet. One of Harry's hands were free and was erratically working to untie the other while Ron did his best to kick books from beneath the bed at Harry had hard as he could.

'Just back off from my girl!' snarled Ron.

'She's not yours,' snapped Harry.

'You have a girlfriend, you pig.'

'So do you!'

'What is going on?' demanded Cassy, her voice firm and her hands on her hips. The deep scowl on her face did little to quell the boiling anger in the pair. It was only when Harry and Ron turned to her that she could see Harry's blackening eye and Ron's split lip.

'Perfect,' said Harry brightly, 'you're here. Look, Cassy, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. Now, I don't want to upset you, but I have to be honest. I'm in love with Romilda Vane. I need to tell her how I feel, so can you untie me?'

Cassy stared.

'I'm going to tell Romilda first,' protested Ron heatedly. 'It's my birthday!'

Slowly, Cassy looked to Neville. He shrugged helplessly and her attention moved to the small mound of presents on Ron's bed. Amongst them were a box of chocolates, open and half-eaten.

There was a spluttering noise behind her. A wheeze followed and despite her best efforts, Hermione was unable to contain her laughter anymore. She doubled over, shaking uncontrollably.

'Romilda Vane,' repeated Cassy, her voice just above a whisper and cold as ice. Though her face was blank, her shoulders drawn and her back straight, the fire burning within her eyes was clear.

'A love potion?' asked Neville, aghast.

Suddenly, Cassy smiled a wide smile and stepped to Harry, who had returned to spitting abuse at Ron. When she crouched beside him, he silenced and stared at her hopefully. She clasped his shoulder.

'Harry,' she said dramatically, 'I understand. Thank-you for telling me.'

'No hard feelings?' he asked and she nodded.

Hermione laughed harder.

'I want you to be happy, so I will help you tell her how you feel,' she announced.

'What?' gasped Neville and Hermione.

'You're the best,' said Harry happily.

'Excuse me? I saw her first. I'm in love with her, unlike that bozo,' bellowed Ron. 'He probably only wants her because she's pretty.'

'If I just wanted someone who's pretty, I'd stay with Cassy, wouldn't I?'

It was a sort of half-compliment that had Cassy pulling a face over her shoulder to Neville and Hermione who howled with loud laughter.

'You are both confident you can win her affections?' she asked, snapping the rope around Harry's wrist. When they both nodded, the unnaturally wide smile returned to her face. 'Then why not both confess to her and she can pick which she likes best then and there? If you both think it will be you, what do you have to lose?'

No matter how ridiculous the idea would have been to anyone else, to their clouded minds it was a brilliant plan. They echoed their agreements between boastful assertions it would be them she would fall in love with instantly.

'Cassy,' hissed Neville, 'what are you doing?'

Cassy ignored him. 'You are both in luck. I know where she spends her Saturday mornings, so we will head over to Professor Slughorn's office.

'I can always tutor her in Potions,' said Harry.

'Sod off,' said Ron, then he smiled, dazed. 'She doesn't need to practise potions, she's perfect the way she is.'

Shepherding the two staggering teens from the dormitories to the portrait hole was difficult. Not only was it apparent there was something wrong with them from their splattered bruises, but Ron was only half-dressed and could not be persuaded to change from his pyjama shorts into anything more descent. They seemed to find their feet as they stretched their tired legs, though neither wore shoes. Cassy and Hermione were buffers between the two because they insisted on walking at the same speed, if not almost running to get to the office first.

Not wanting another fight to break out, Cassy kept Harry occupied while Neville spoke to Ron. It was unfortunate that given his hazy mind, the only topic that spilt from his lips was Romilda Vane. He explained everything from her lovely dark hair – he did like dark-haired girls very much – to her wonderful laugh – like tinkling bells, he said. Several times, he apologised too. His face would flutter to being oddly serious although his words were always ridiculous. Romilda was simply the one for him and while he and Cassy had a good run, he had to move on to his true love. He was terribly sorry about it, but she was being very supportive so she could be invited to their wedding, if she wanted.

'That is very kind of you,' said Cassy, grinning. It was comical, completely hilarious, but only because she had found him first. If he had got to Romilda Vane before she had stopped him, a very different emotion would have been running through her veins, a fury only matched by the vibrant curses that would have left her wand. Still, she conceded, perhaps the two girls should have a chat.

'Won-Won,' shrieked a voice.

'Oh, no,' muttered Neville.

Lavender bounded up the stairs with a wide smile, breathless. 'I couldn't find you, so I thought you might have gone to breakfast – why aren't you dressed?'

Ron blinked at her then slowly put one hand squarely on her face and pushed her back.

'Get off me. I have a date.'

With that, he continued his march down the corridor and Harry ran to keep up with him. Cassy and Hermione hurried after them, keen to keep them apart, though Hermione was trying her hardest not to laugh, while Neville lingered to apologise to Lavender without offering any real explanation for his behaviour at all.

Neville knocked loudly on the office door. There was a short pause before it creaked open and Ron stuck his face through the gap eagerly.

'Romilda?' he called.

A hand reached out and pushed his face back out again.

'Weatherby,' said Professor Slughorn. His round face emerged from the gap, frowning. 'I will not have you bursting into my office.'

'Is Romilda there?' asked Harry expectantly.

'What?' said Professor Slughorn.

'They've both had a Love Potion,' explained Hermione, hushed.

'Ah, that explains the bruises,' he said, smiling. 'I thought you and Cassy would have been able to whip up an antidote in no time for this.'

'I don't think Cassy wants to listen to Harry's ramblings much longer,' said Neville grimly.

She did, but fixed a glower on her face anyway when Professor Slughorn turned to look at her. He laughed loudly and moved aside to let Harry and Ron pass; they had already been craning to catch a glimpse of her. When they burst into the room, they both twirled frantically.

'You said she'd be here,' said Harry accusingly.

'She will be,' announced Professor Slughorn gleefully. 'You boys are early. Now, why don't I fix you two a tonic to calm your nerves, ay?'

Neither settled down. They paced and peered, often turned towards the door as though Vane was about to burst through at any moment. They exchanged a few sneers and jabs when they got too close to one another, unable to share the space like dogs caged. It was only a few minutes later that Professor Slughorn turned from his cabinet with two tumblers of grey liquid and a half-empty bottle on the side.

'Here we go,' he said and handed one to them each. 'Drink up.'

The effect was immediate. As soon as the last drop of the liquid had left the glass, Harry and Ron paled and blanched. Harry dropped heavily onto the sofa, his mouth agape and his hands over his eyes.

'Oh my God,' he chanted. 'Oh my God.'

'Buck up, Harry. I think you've got some making up to do,' chortled Professor Slughorn.

Groaning, Harry parted his fingers and peered towards Cassy sheepishly. She stood with her arms folded across her chest and an eyebrow raised as she stared at him from the other side of the room.

'I am so sorry,' he lamented.

'Women,' Ron breathed, appearing just as shaken. He took a seat beside Harry and the two exchanged wary looks.

Everyone chuckled.

'It was the chocolates,' said Harry grimly. 'Where did you get them from, Ron?'

'They were at the bottom of my bed. I thought they had fallen from the pile,' he said.

'They're the ones Romilda gave me months ago... I must have thrown them out of my trunk this morning looking for... your present. I can't believe I didn't realise when you offered me them.'

Cassy noted the hesitancy in his words.

'Left to mature for months, well, that explains why you both became bumbling fools, but it's all water under the bridge now, right?' said Professor Slughorn. He handed them both another tumbler, this time filled with amber liquid. 'This is a proper pick me up, I promise. I was saving this for a special occasion, but now seems as good as time as any. To love!'

Harry managed a meagre smile while Cassy, Neville, and Hermione laughed openly at the toast. Ron stared in horror at the floor.

'I pushed Lavender away by her face,' he groaned in realisation.

'I invited Cassy to mine and Romilda's wedding,' stated Harry flatly.

'Yeah, but she thinks it's funny. Lavender's going to kill me.'

There was a loud choking sound and Professor Slughorn doubled over. Ron rubbed his face in embarrassment.

'It's not funny, Sir. How am I supposed to explain that?' he said, but Professor Slughorn did not stop coughing. His coughs began to grow louder, wetter, and further apart.

'Sir?' said Hermione quickly and hurried to his side. She took the glass from his hand. 'Sir?'

When he was not coughing, he was wheezing, a desperate sound of troubled breathing that fought against every convulsion. He seized. Thin streams of spittle dripped from his mouth, a white foam forming at the edges. Then, without warning, he collapsed straight down onto the cold, stone floor.

'Turn him on his side,' ordered Cassy. She, Hermione, and Ron skidded to a halt beside him. He shook and writhed, stiff and heavy. It took all three of them to turn his large form.

'A bezoar,' said Harry suddenly. Within an instant, he was throwing open cabinet doors and had pulled a dozen draws from their places. Noisily, Professor Slughorn's precious collections were scattered across the ground, his papers tipped and disordered.

'I'll get help,' called Neville.

Harry appeared at Cassy's side, a tiny stone in hand. 'He needs to sit up a bit.'

With another great heave, they manoeuvred their teacher again and Harry, through the foam and spittle, wrenched open his clenched jaw and shoved the bezoar down his uncooperative throat.

* * *

'Why would anyone want to poison Slughorn?' asked Ron.

The incident had been taken care of swiftly, yet no matter how quickly the staff had responded, it did not stop the fact that a teacher had been poisoned spreading like a cold through a nursery. Everyone knew by lunch and everyone knew exactly who had been there at the time. Whether it was in praise or utter scrutiny, Cassy, Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Ron were watched and discussed avidly in the following hours.

'Slughorn had been hiding from Voldemort for a year before he agreed to teach. There has to be something he wants from him,' said Harry.

Cassy, Neville, and Hermione could all guess what that would be.

The seven of them had gathered in one of the classrooms on the third floor. It was largely disused and with the winding corners and moving doorways that obscured the pathway to get there, they were confident they would not be found for some time. They often used it for meetings, particularly when they did not want to be overheard.

'He said he was saving it for a special occasion, right?' said Ginny thoughtfully. 'What if it was meant for Dumbledore?'

'Then it wasn't planned very well. Anyone who's ever met him would know he would keep the good stuff for himself,' snorted Hermione. 'The question is, where did he get it from?'

'Malfoy,' said Harry easily.

'We don't know what for sure,' said Hermione.

'We're pretty sure he's up to something to do with Dumbledore, aren't we? He obviously isn't going to try and kill him, he wouldn't stand a chance, but what if he is trying to get rid of him for a day or two so Voldemort can attack?' offered Harry. He leant against the desk Cassy was seated on. 'We have no idea what he's trying to fix in the Room of Requirement.'

'I have to say that I doubt Professor Slughorn was the real target,' added Cassy. 'I think perhaps it was meant as a gift to the Headmaster in the same way Katie Bell's cursed necklace was, but for now, we have no evidence it was Malfoy. He was in detention at the time of the Imperious Curse and the bottle could have been very old by now.'

'So we might have someone else to look out for,' said Luna as she plaited a small section of her straggly blonde hair.

It hardly seemed improbable that there was something else afoot within the castle, but if Cassy were to be entirely honest with herself, she did suspect her cousin had something to do with the attacks. She was not certain how. The only slither of a silver lining in the entire situation was that Harry had saved Professor Slughorn's life; with no small amount of luck and gratitude, it was possible that he could retrieve the memory from him when he awoke, whenever that may be.

'We could have died.'

Everyone turned to Ron.

'Think about it. All it would have taken was for either me or Harry to have drunk it first and we could have died,' he said frankly. 'This is getting out of hand. First a student and now a teacher. If parents hear about this, imagine all the complaints Dumbledore's going to get. People are going to start believing he can't protect the school, let alone Britain.'

'People expect him to do it by himself, that's the problem in the first place,' said Cassy. 'Do not worry about the public yet, if none of us have told anyone about what really happened, then the most they know is that he has been poisoned, not why or how. There are a hundred reasons available for it.'

'Going to make a speech about it?' grunted Ron.

Cassy cast him a level, sideways stare. 'Hardly. I already have an interview to do for Luna's father on Wednesday and I am still trying to sort out a time to meet with the Minister of Magic.'

 _Bang!_

The door flung open. Everyone whirled around, their wands drawn from their pockets and readied. On their feet, they each pointed them expectantly at the intruder, but after a second their arms dropped.

'Lavender!' cried Ron. His voice was a pitch too high and his tongue a moment too delayed.

'Where have you been?' demanded Lavender. 'It's your birthday and I haven't seen you since – since you brushed me off this morning. Explain that!'

Lavender stood with her feet apart in the doorway, hands on her hips and nostrils flared. Behind her was Pavarti, who had shrunk six-inches in embarrassment.

Ron's ears flushed red. 'I had some bad chocolates, they made me go a bit funny for a while - '

'Don't try and blame this on choco – oh Merlin's beard! Someone gave you a love potion, didn't they? Oh, Won-Won, tell me who it was and I'll sort her out!' gasped Lavender. She rushed forward and gripped the front of his shirt. 'Look at that bruise! What happened?'

Harry pointedly looked away.

'It doesn't matter, nothing happened, honestly,' protested Ron weakly. However, Lavender was not listening. Her eyes were fixed on a point beyond him.

'It was you, wasn't it?' she accused suddenly, jabbing a finger sharply at Hermione.

'Excuse me?' said Hermione, blinking owlishly.

'You gave him the love potion. That's why you were together this morning. I should have known - '

'Oh, shut up, you daft bimbo,' scoffed Hermione, scandalised. 'Of course, it wasn't me.'

'You've not properly spoken in months and now you're all cosying up to him,' sneered Lavender. Her voice was rising in octaves with every word. Her hands were balled into fists by her sides and her shoulders were squared so high she resembled a floorboard.

Before Hermione could retort, Ron held up his hands, placating any oncoming insults. 'It wasn't her. She was helping me.'

'I should have been the one helping you, I'm your girlfriend. Besides, how do you know it wasn't her, it could have been some ploy to -'

'Because Hermione doesn't need to use a potion to make someone fall in love with her,' he said loudly.

Suddenly, everything was deathly silent. The heat on Ron's face spread from his ears to cover his entire face in a deep scarlet. As Lavender's eyes filled with tears, Neville and Ginny were unable to contain their expressions of pure delight. Hermione remained still in shock.

'Lav-' began Ron, but she silenced him.

'Perhaps if you think she's so brilliant, you should go crying to her when you want something in the future, because you certainly won't be coming to me if that's how you feel,' she said, voice quivering.

'I didn't - ' called Ron, yet Lavender had already sprinted from the disused classroom. Only her footsteps and poorly concealed sniffs could be heard as she got farther and farther away.

All eyes then drifted to Pavarti, who had shrunk even further. She cleared her throat and offered a small wave before she too fled from the room. For a moment, no one spoke.

'Well, that was emotional,' said Luna brightly.

Cassy raised an eyebrow. 'How did she know where you would be?'

'Er, well,' stuttered Ron and Cassy help up a hand. She knew. She had caught the pair kissing all over the castle; of course, he had brought her there too. Instead, her attention then turned to Hermione, who was beaming the widest smile she had seen on her face for a very long time.

* * *

Word of how Professor Slughorn ended up confined to the Hospital Wing never got out. As far as the students and their parents were concerned, he had simply cross-contaminated a drink and it had been left to sit for a while too long. A curtain surrounding his bed saw to it that no one peaked at his precarious position.

Unfortunately, this meant that OWL and NEWT student lessons were often taken by Professor Snape. When he had a spare hour or two to teach them, he did; otherwise, they were to independently study theory, which rarely ended up productive for anyone but Cassy and Hermione. Unlike Professor Slughorn, Professor Snape knew very well that Harry was less than spectacular at Potions and very much refused to believe the high praise he had been given at the Christmas party. Harry did not risk using the Prince's instructions when he was present. It was simply not worth having the book taken from him.

Despite the unwelcome change, there was a noticeable easing in the atmosphere around Gryffindor in the following days. Hermione and Ron had resumed their Prefect duties without squabbling or needing to work out their separate patrol routes as not to collide mid-way. They had instead fallen into an easy pattern of meeting after dinner and wandering together, though Hermione very much remained the strict one unless Ron saw something he wanted to confiscate.

Although what Ron had said to Lavender had clearly had some feeling behind it, Hermione had not acted upon any gleeful whim and confessed her own feelings. In fact, she had reverted to denial that it meant anything at all, but when she thought no one was looking, she would peek at him from the corner of her eye, quickly and quizzically; the question was always on her mind.

A week later on the following Saturday, Cassy's attention had moved on. Stood on a stone bench in the freezing courtyard, great plumes of steam blooming from her mouth with every word she spoke loudly, clearly, fiercely, to anyone and everyone. It had not been her intention. She and Harry had intended to find a few minutes to themselves before the Gryffindor Quidditch match, but instead, she had been forced to dodge an incoming stone and a wave of heckling laughter. Her interview in _The Quibbler_ had not gone unnoticed, but not everyone thought well of her association with the 'loony' newspaper. An argument had escalated and soon, without meaning to at all, she found herself surrounded by a cluster of awaiting students, both the eager and the cynical, ready to hear what it was she had to say. So, she spoke.

The crowd only enlarged as more and more people spilt from the Great Hall. Her mind raced to conjure a speech, something sensible yet passionate, also honest though and perhaps, she thought, that was why she found responding to the questions so easy. She was simply being honest. Although, not everyone appreciated that; they certainly disliked it when she mentioned how Voldemort would not spare them for being children. He had proved that before.

It was not until a booming voice cut across her that she halted. One sentence in her defence had turned to five, which had turned to fifteen-minutes of intense questions and answers she had had no time to prepare for. When her words fell away at the noise, she peered over the crowd of students and to the towering double doors of the Entrance Hall. Standing with a smile, though trying his best to look scolding, was Hagrid.

'Clear off now, the lot of yer,' he bellowed as he waved a giant hand at them. 'Get ter yer Quidditch game before someone spots yer loitering.'

Noisily, the students began to depart. Cassy hopped down from the stone bench and to Harry, who had waited beside her the entire time.

'Black!'

Simultaneously, Cassy and Harry groaned.

'Black, get over here now!'

Cassy turned to face the stormy expression of Professor Snape. Like Hagrid, he must have caught the end of the gathering.

'Yes, Professor?' she asked.

'Do you know it is against school rules to promote a political agenda?' he sneered. 'Do you have any idea about the complaints the school will suffer because of your inability not to promote yourself at all times? Parents will not stand to have their child told to fight by a someone who is no longer a child herself - and Black, I suggest you start acting like an adult and take responsibility for your actions for once. Detention, tonight.'

'Yes, Sir,' she said.

Professor Snape stared. His eyes bored into hers and carefully, she kept her own gaze between his. Her defences were up, but given the torturous tutoring he had put Harry through the previous year, she would not risk it; she could not risk exposing what little they did know.

After an intense few seconds, he swept past her, his dark cloak billowing behind him in the winter wind. He stalked down the stone steps towards the Quidditch Pitch, scattering lingering students with his gloomy glower. Cassy watched him go, unconcerned.

'What a dick,' said Harry.

'Who's a what now?' came a call.

Neville and Luna appeared from behind Hagrid. A red and gold scarf was wrapped around his neck, something that had been missing earlier at breakfast. He must have gone back to get it, concluded Cassy, but where was Hermione?

'Snape's given Cassy a detention,' answered Harry.

'Who's bright idea was that anyway?' questioned Hagrid with a shake of his head. Despite his best efforts to appear disapproving, he could not contain the glint in his eye or hide the way his beard twitched with a hint of a smile.

'If it involves trespassing and abduction, it's probably Cassy's, but if it involves near death then it's probably Harry's idea,' volunteered Neville.

Luna giggled.

'I will have you know I have only abducted someone once and he was glad for it, so it hardly counts,' retorted Cassy factually. Harry hardly counted as an abduction. She may have illegally taken a child from his relatives house, but she had been a child herself and as she had said, Harry was very thankful for it.

'I have no defence,' laughed Harry.

'I would prefer my plans to be known as "trespassing and flattery",' continued Cassy and Hagrid gave a booming laugh.

Cassy smirked as Neville rolled his eyes. Quickly, her eyes flicked beyond him; a figure had flashed past in her vision, dressed darkly but with pale, white-blond hair. The figure quickly vanished around the corner where she knew the first staircase to be. Her eyes sharpened and she glanced at Harry, his smile now gone.

'Go,' he said, though she knew it was for a very different reason than her own desire to follow.

She squeezed his hand and gave a short call of "good luck" before she sprinted back into the Entrance Hall. Ignoring the shouts of confusion from Neville and Hagrid, she slipped into quick but silent fast steps behind Malfoy, who had yet to turn back to look for any cause of the quiet commotion.

'Draco,' she called suddenly.

Cassy had not wanted to follow him to learn more about his plot – such a needless action, for she was certain Professor Dumbledore already had a plan – but because he was her cousin and she wanted one more chance to change his path. If she failed this time, then she would let it go. She had to let it go, because she knew that if she had to face him later in the war she could have no reservations in disposing of his threat.

She had become increasingly aware of the differences in her focus on Slytherin to Harry's. Whilst she had always been aware her sympathies were stronger than that of her friends', she had not realised how deep their genuine belief that Slytherin was a House of gloomy, selfish souls really stretched. Despite their harsh words over the years, some warranted and others not, she had always expected that when it came down to it they would understand the position Slytherin students found themselves in. They were universally disliked by the other Houses; some students broke through the barriers to form inter-house friendships, but those who did not push themselves were considered in the darkest of ways to be excluded for reasons often unfounded and barely justifiable.

Harry did not understand Cassy's need to breach those barriers. She had surmised as much before, but she had hoped that with the introduction of Astoria that his prejudices would fracture; they remained as concrete as ever. Astoria was merely an exception to the rule. She was an exception in the same way Cassy was an exception to her family.

When it concerned "dark" families, Harry worked with "exceptions". His vision of duality was limited, blind to good and evil's blurred lines. For nearly everything else, Harry only saw the good in people. He accepted Remus' ailment without care, loved the Weasleys despite their reputation and wealth, and saw no one as more worthy than another because of their blood or upbringing. Yet, it seemed impossible to persuade him that not every Slytherin was monstrous and manipulative. It was even more difficult to explain the notion that they fell into those stereotypes because of the pressure of those very stereotypes.

She had argued with him until she could not anymore. It was not as though they screamed and shouted at one another, but it was an argument of stubbornness that had resulted in Harry's declaration that Cassy needed to accept she was different from her family and try as she might to still maintain some ties to her upbringing, she did not have any anymore. She had grown silent at that. Harry seemed to realise the harshness in his words, yet not understand the weight of them. He could not understand the pride one could have in a long lineage for he had no family growing up; he could not understand her need to better herself as she had been taught to for he had never been encouraged to do so; he could not understand her interest in politics and her desire to change the world for he had only ever wanted to be normal.

Cassy was faced with the realisation that perhaps, on a fundamental level, Harry did not really understand her at all.

'Draco?' Malfoy repeated, his words spat like lightning, quickly and sharply. He turned to her, grey eyes narrowed. Their usual steeled-glint was missing. Deep circles surrounded his eyes, lips dry and cracked, his cheeks were hollowed, shadowed by his prominent cheekbones; he looked dreadful.

'Please, do not do this,' she said.

'Do what?' he spat.

'Kill yourself as you are,' she said. While her words were pleading, her voice remained strong with only the slightest softening in her matter-of-fact tone. 'What have you gotten yourself into, Draco?'

'Draco?' he repeated. 'Since when were we on a first name basis, _cousin_?'

'Narcissa must be terrified for you,' she continued, her voice lowering as she frowned gently. 'To allow her son to be marked so young... she must be reeling.'

'What makes you think I'm marked?' he demanded. His weight shifted and his eyes darted from side to side. She could not let him run, though, not yet.

'Because he asked me too, you know.'

For a moment, it looked as though Malfoy had forgotten how to breathe.

'When I was at the Department of Mysteries and Voldemort was seeking the prophecy between himself and Harry, he asked me. That is why I not killed in second year by the Basilisk. It easily could have, but he wanted me to join him, so he let me live. I said no,' she pushed on. 'I chose death over mindless murder.'

'If you said no to the Dark Lord, how the fuck do you explain still being alive?' Malfoy had regained his voice and with it a tremor of rage that echoed through the great heights of the marble stairwell.

'Let me help you do the same,' she said calmly.

'Help me?' he laughed, half-hysterical. 'You can't help me! What makes you think I don't want this? What makes you strut over here like a saviour to the family you left behind at the first sight of something better coming along? If Alphard was still here -'

'If Alphard was still here you would have never become a Death Eater because he would never have stood for it,' she cut in sharply. 'Is this what you want? This pressure? The fear of failure every day for the rest of your life? Do you honestly think that if the Dark Lord wins this fight then you will be allowed to live as you please in a pure-blood only society? You are not a fool, Draco. When it comes to it can you really kill someone in his name?'

He flinched.

When they were children, Cassy had never had any problems reading his expression. Try as he might to emulate his cold father, Draco Malfoy was never what Lucius Malfoy was. Yet, in that moment, his every nerve shutting down, every inch of his being steadied and steeled into a blank canvas, he looked very much the image of his loathsome father.

'I am not one of your followers, not a fan you can preach to and change my mind with a question. If you want someone to worship you go and cry to Saint Potter, he does a good job of hanging onto your coat tails. He will never win this war because he's not enough. He's not clever enough, he's not strong enough, not determined enough, and does not care about himself enough. He will die, Cassy, and then where will you be? Probably in some mass grave full of other traitors, forever known to have been damaged by your psychotic Muggle mother's tainted blood.' His words were colder than anything she had heard before. 'You can't help me.'

She watched him go. There were no words to change his mind, not final fight left in her to try and get him to listen just one more time. She had promised herself that she would not try again and she would not. He had made his position clear. They were on different sides of the war and while Alphard would have hated it, she knew he would understand. He had left his own sister to rot in her misery because of the injustices she had done to her own child. Alphard would surely forgive Cassy for allowing Draco to make his own decisions. After all, it was never easy to leave someone behind.

* * *

 **The conflict between Cassy and Draco pretty much wrote itself. Cassy is done with him. She has tried all she can and has now reached her final line. Did anyone catch Draco's feelings towards her in their conversation? Does anyone else think he sounded a little bit concerned for his estranged cousin?**

 **Also, I have a little bit of a Cassy/Harry conflict arising here. That's another thing that I was only going to mention in brief but stretched somehow into a few paragraphs. I was not going to mention anything of the sort in my initial plans, but the thought struck me while starting this year that while they are quite similar, a lot of Cassy and Harry's beliefs stem from very different places and with all of Cassy's activities this year, I think it was inevitable that she would dwell on their differences a little. They see the world in two different ways and when pressure it put upon it, she is beginning to realise it might be an issue in the war. Not that it's full-blown angst or anything, but I think the thought adds a bit of depth to their relationship.**

 **What do you think?**

 **Thanks!**


	21. No time for the past

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XXI: No time for the past**

Suddenly, Cassy scowled. Her eyes narrowed and sharpened like an owl in sight of prey. Without warning, her head flicked around and up to the staircase above. She took two strides to the side and peered up at the vanishing tailored shoes.

'I thought I heard something,' she said loudly, her voice echoing through the empty halls. 'It is rude to eavesdrop.'

There was no sound in reply, then, a dark-haired head popped over the railings and peered down at her with blinking black eyes.

'Why is it always you, Shandy?' she asked, not expecting a reply.

'Well, at first when I saw you run back into the castle I thought you might be doing something interesting, but then I realised you were talking to your cousin and while that sounded fun it was not really worthwhile listening to. Then I went to the kitchens and now I am heading to the library, before you ask,' he replied conversationally and even held a chocolate muffin over the railing for her to see. 'I don't really care for your family life or lack of it, from the sounds of that.'

'So you did listen,' she said flatly and Shandy raised an eyebrow.

'Dear, voices carry in an empty castle, particularly ones as whiny as your cousin's,' he stated. 'Though, I did enjoy your little question and answer game outside. Particularly the part about slavery. I have never seen so many people look so mortified in an instant.'

Cassy hated it when he turned what could have been a compliment into a funny little fact or an off-handed comment tinged with something morbid.

'What do you think about Voldemort, Shandy?' she asked suddenly.

He eyed her thoughtfully, his expression still open and his eyes still attentive, though his carefully styled hair was beginning to droop down into his face.

'If he wins, there are no Muggle-borns and if Dumbledore wins, we continue as we are,' he said simply.

'Be realistic now,' she scolded flatly.

He shrugged. 'Watch out for yourself, Black. You are focusing so much on other people you do not seem to recognise what a target you have become yourself and the price everyone around you will pay too.'

It was infuriating how light his tone had become with her once again. Though she had very much wanted to hear his teasing tones for the last few months since the incident, she had forgotten how much it irritated her. Teasing was something she could work with, their relationship could improve from there because he would want to listen to her, if just to find something to laugh about; it was a vast improvement from his cold dismissal she had received for so long, however deserved it was. She wanted to understand where he stood, because she could not gauge his allegiance at all. He was neither here not there about the war yet he could be vital to either party if persuaded to choose. Of all the potential Death Eaters in the school, he was the one she was most concerned about. His intelligence and skills were brilliant, she had seen it enough times first-hand to know he was not someone to be trifled with and certainly not someone she could allow to remain idle. Yet, she knew she was almost out of time to convince him of anything.

Having chosen to disregard all thoughts of the older male, Cassy strode down to the Quidditch Pitch. Her coat was pulled tightly against her. The blustery March weather had yet to give way to the emergence of Spring; the winds remained biting and the grassy slopes were still plagued by loose mud from weeks of frequent rain. The wooden steps to the stands were coated in a thick layer of dirt and footprints. Cassy was forced to hold the handrail to avoid falling victim to the hazardous mess beneath her feet. The railing vanished at the top of the stairs and left her with a choice to battle through the masses of cheering, clapping bodies that lined the stands to find her friends in the section of red, or to remain where she was and watch what remained of the game while she could.

While the former was more entertaining, it was also to be more aggravating and without a friend in sight, Cassy chose to remain where she was in the doorway of a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw staircase. From the announcements overhead, each word airy and high as Luna's voice flooded the stadium, Gryffindor stood a mere ten points beneath Hufflepuff. Ron had let in five goals, which was respectable, and if Ginny's flying was any indication of wills, it was that Gryffindor was determined to change that at any moment.

High above the rest, Harry circled. The Hufflepuff Seeker trailed some distance behind.

'Another goal saved by Ron Weasley,' announced Luna. 'Another terrible attempt by Zacharias Smith... perhaps he's suffering from Loser's Lurgy.'

'Miss Lovegood!' snapped Professor McGonagall for all to hear.

'It's a real illness, Professor,' replied Luna.

Quietly, Cassy laughed to herself, though no one seemed to be paying any attention to Luna's words. Suddenly, there was a collective gasp and she peered up to see Harry flat against his broomstick in a vertical dive. The stadium screamed, the sound deafening as the Gryffindors roared in support and every other House screamed for the Hufflepuff Seeker to do something; if Gryffindor won, the margin between their total score and everyone else's would only widen. The cup would almost be a sure win.

There was a lull and then, suddenly and all at once, a wave of noise overtook all other senses. Harry pulled out of his dive, a single arm in the air. The beating wings of the Snitch were too tiny and furious to see from such a distance, but Cassy did not need to see them to know he had won them the match.

She did not wait for the masses to move. Before the clapping had abated, Cassy was gone. She had descended the stairs and was half-way towards the castle by the time the first feet hit the grass beneath the stands.

In the common room, she occupied the same little table she and her friends always did. The mottled vase was still there, the protective charm she had placed over it to prevent others changing the colour in third-year had yet to fade. She was going to persuade Neville to steal it at the end of their seventh-year and if not she would post it to him as a birthday present. Slowly, trickles of cheerful students flooded the room. It was not long before Neville and Hermione joined her at the table, faces still flushed from the cold.

'You missed the match,' said Hermione, unwrapping her red and gold scarf.

'I saw the end,' said Cassy.

'Where did you go, anyway? You ran off pretty quickly,' asked Neville as he shed his outerwear.

'I went to speak to Malfoy,' she said and Hermione groaned.

'This needs to stop,' she said.

Cassy clenched her jaw. 'It is stopping. I offered to help him out of his task and he declined. I will not try again and I have no desire to pursue him anymore. What the Headmaster knows is surely more than us and he will handle it accordingly.'

'That's... diplomatic of you,' said Hermione warily. 'Are you sure you're alright with this?'

'With what?' questioned Cassy.

'Giving up on your family?'

For a split second, she paused to let the words register in her brain. Then, Cassy nodded before the words left her throat. 'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, I am. I have to be.'

'Dumbledore's worried,' said Neville after a few seconds of silence. 'We walked down to the pitch with Hagrid and he said he had heard Dumbledore and Snape arguing about whether or not Snape wanted to do "this" anymore, whatever "this" is. It sounded as though Snape had been asked to keep an eye on people.'

Cassy leant her chin on the palm of her hand. 'His Godson.'

'That's what Harry thinks too,' said Neville.

'It's unsurprising, given what we overheard at Christmas,' she said idly. 'I have no doubt that the Headmaster has a plan and does not want us involved.'

It was hardly that simple, she knew, they all wanted information. They all had the same desire to know exactly what was happening and what the Order's plans were. Yet, she knew she had to trust in other people. She could not win a war by fighting every corner herself. She had her job and if she needed to help, if she stumbled upon anything that could be of use, then she would do whatever she needed to do, but she had a role and fighting for everything meant she was to win nothing. It was not a decision she wanted to make, for if she could do it all herself to ensure it was done then she would, yet time was fickle. There were not enough hours in the day for her school work, her speeches and letters, and her personal ties as it was.

It was at that moment that Harry slumped into a seat opposite. His hair was wet from the showers and his kit had been replaced with a jumper and dark jeans.

'Nice dive,' greeted Cassy.

'Thanks,' he said. 'I didn't think you'd have seen it. How was trailing Malfoy?'

'We spoke, but I did not bother following him to the Room of Requirement,' she replied. They had tried getting in twice already in the last week. Simply asking the door to take them to where Malfoy was did not work, not even when he was not in there.

'You could have gone to listen to what he asked for,' protested Harry, scowling and Cassy frowned.

'Since when have we ever asked for the Room aloud?' she retorted.

His scowl lingered before easing into a frown. 'What did you speak to him about then?'

'This and that,' she said dismissively. 'I offered a way out and he declined.'

'Of course he did,' snorted Harry as he turned to stare at the ceiling.

'I am not going to follow him anymore,' she announced, breaking his evidently loathsome thoughts about Malfoy. 'I will help when needed, but I simply do not have the time to chase him.'

'What?' demanded Harry. 'You said it yourself that you think he's plotting against Dumbledore!'

'Harry, lower your voice,' warned Hermione. Her eyes darted over her shoulder.

'And he knows it. I have a role in the Order and I need to concentrate on it. I trust Professor Dumbledore to see to the plot himself and if not, he would ask for help. He has never been short on giving direction before,' she said sharply.

'He's thrown you out of his office twice and threatened to stop you helping him if you don't keep your nose out, Harry. I'm sure he's fine,' interjected Hermione. 'Please, keep your voice down!'

'That's great for you, isn't it? Being in the Order? It must be fantastic to know everything before I do, about the bloody war I'm supposed to be fighting,' growled Harry.

Cassy stared, stone-faced. 'I always tell you everything I know. I am never told anything more than what to say and who to say it to.'

Harry slumped back in his seat, glowering at the polished tabletop.

Despite everything, Harry was still jealous of her.

'I don't know why you bother with them, the lot of them,' he muttered.

Cassy narrowed her eyes and despite knowing fully well know he meant, she asked, 'What lot?'

'The Slytherins. You talk to them all the time. They're not interested in changing sides,' he stated, his arms folded defensively across his chest.

For a moment, Cassy's eyes almost narrowed further, but she caught herself at the last second. It was no use, she knew. She could tell him how it was not as easy as having a side when one had a family to protect, a family with expectations; she could tell him how Astoria had reported an increasing number of students catching her attention in corridors, their voices hushed and their eyes quick, yet they would speak when no one was there to listen. She could tell him those things, but it would do no good. He would have to see them and even with them in front of him every day, Harry, like so many others, missed every action.

She said nothing.

'I understood Malfoy before, he was kind of like your brother, but now with him siding with Vol-' His voice just continued, completely undeterred by the lack of response.

'Harry.' Cassy's voice sliced through his words like a knife through the air. Her teeth ground down, her jaw tense despite the obvious attempt to keep her face calm. The edges of her eyes were so slightly pinched, almost unnoticeable because of her large eyes, but they could all see it and they all knew better than to utter another word.

The table fell into silence. It made very little difference to the room as a whole. Cheerful voices and lively shouts melded into a near thunderous din and yet, the air surrounding the four of them was suffocating. Eventually, after much shifting and gazing around, it was Neville who dared to break the silence.

'How is your task going?' he asked uncertainly, but eager to change the topic. 'Getting the memory, I mean?'

Harry's mood seemed only to darken further. 'I have no ideas at all and now Slughorn's in the hospital wing.'

'Take him a gift and start a conversation,' suggested Neville. 'Some wine or something.'

'I'm not sure he'll want to see alcohol for a long time,' said Hermione.

With that, the topic was quickly changed and as the celebrations continued around them, the four remained huddled in the corner, formulating and theorising ways to get their professor to share his darkest memory. Cassy remained quiet and reserved. The celebrations continued on for another hour until interest began to wane and the House separated again into little groups around the castle. By dinner, Cassy, Harry, Neville, and Hermione had been left nearly entirely alone in the common room, with Ginny having joined them when Dean departed with Ron and Seamus.

It was after dinner that Cassy was forced to attend her detention. Professor Snape was no longer the Potions teacher, so his punishment was not going to be hand-scrubbing the cauldrons as it had been before; a small mercy, Cassy supposed. She did not complain for her actions were indeed against the school's rules - Hermione had checked. It did not mean though that she wanted to spend her Saturday evening with only the company of a man who hated her and her entire family.

She knocked twice on his office door. After a short delay, a drawling voice called for her to enter.

'Sir,' she greeted.

Professor Snape sat behind his desk. A quill was in his hand and a large stack of essays sat in front of him. The gruesome portraits from the classroom continued around his office, punctuated by blank expanses of scenery without a soul in sight. The fire was lit and flickered warmly. There was no ash on the grate, nor visible logs to suggest he attended to his own fire. Instruments on the mantle whirled and hummed, but the most noise came from the giant clock that hung above the fireplace.

'You're late,' he said.

She was actually precisely on time.

'If you were truly intent on repenting then you would have appeared five minutes before the set time so I could explain your task to you so you could begin exactly on time. As it is, you will stay the extra duration it takes me to think of a punishment,' he said.

She had no intention of redeeming herself. She had done precisely what she had intended to and they both knew it.

'Yes, Sir,' she replied dutifully.

He hated that. He had always hated her easy compliance, his inability to get a reaction from her. She could not imagine why he was trying so hard to get one now, years after he had given up. It was easier to let her be for both of them, particularly because her father could make life very awkward for him in the Order; even the Headmaster would not be able to stop him if he believed the other to be causing trouble, but also because they left each other alone mutually and it was an easier relationship of pretending the other did not exist unless necessary. Now, however, he seemed determined to aggravate her. It was a shame she did not care.

Two minutes ticked by. Each passing second was announced by the tick tick of the clock; she counted them all absently, careful to never look up to it or give away any sign that she was impatient. It was only as the third minute came to completion, that Professor Snape stopped his scribblings and looked at her once again.

'That box in the corner contains every NEWT grade Defence Against the Dark Arts score in the last fifty-years. I want them ordered by year in alphabetical order within the four separate Houses. Silently. You may go when that is complete,' he instructed and without waiting for her to acknowledge him, he returned to his writing.

The first question that rose to Cassy's mind was why anyone had allowed the reports to fall out of order in the first place; the second question was why they were each printed on individual sheets and not on one paper for each year of results. The large box was full to the brim with various sheets of yellowed, dog-eared pages and newer, crisp white parchments. It was only due to the age of the papers that Cassy was not certain it had been a task purposefully created that day to torment her. Then, she frowned.

He probably did rip all these from their files today just to watch me redo them, she thought bitterly, because really, who would keep these papers like this?

It soon became apparent that the papers at the bottom of the box were untouched for many years. The dust that had gathered there and the damp from the box had ruined those at the bottom of the mass. Still, she peeled them out and lay them flatly to air them as she continued to rummage. What also became apparent was that her father's results were not in the box; Remus' were missing as were James'. While she was not confident in the NEWTs Lily took, she had always envisioned the other as having taken Defence, if just for her willingness to fight in the Order once she had left school. Yet, hers were not there either.

She sneaked a glance at her teacher. He and Lily had been friends. They had been friends until he had become embarrassed by her blood status, calling her an unforgivable slur when she had risen to defend him. Sirius had said they never spoke again, but there was something in the way he interacted with Harry that did not quite make sense. His resentment was so deep, so unnaturally deep that Cassy had questioned whether or not it could be real. He hated James, but to loathe Harry so much for it was unnatural; anyone who looked twice at him could see the differences between him and his father. Even Sirius, who had wanted nothing more upon escaping Azkaban was to relive his youth with his best-friend's son was forced to admit Harry was not like James. Idly, she wondered if it was a combination of both parents, a resentment for them both that caused his ridicule, or if he was really just a loathsome man who took enjoyment out of emotionally damaging vulnerable children.

* * *

Cassy had another nights detention. She had not managed to order the documents by midnight and so under the accusation she had not tried hard enough she was to repeat the process the next evening too. She sat at breakfast on Sunday morning with a tendril more dislike in her veins for Professor Snape.

'Cassy,' called an airy voice.

She turned just in time to see Luna slip into the seat beside her. Neville, Hermione, and Ginny each looked up and chorused greetings. Luna held out a scrap of parchment.

'Professor Dumbledore gave me a note for Harry. I don't know where he is, so I thought you'd probably see him first,' she said.

'He's gone to see Slughorn,' said Ginny as she selected a fresh slice of toast from the rack.

Cassy tucked the parchment away into the pocket of her jeans.

It was not long before Neville and Luna departed together; Neville had offered to help her with her Herbology homework for her upcoming end of unit assessment. She had accepted it gratefully and while they extended the offer to the girls, none of them even contemplated agreeing. There was work to be done, but eager not to invade Neville and Luna's space, the three remained where they were for a time. They continued to chat as other students left their tables and set about beginning their last day of the weekend.

It was only as the three discussed returning to the common room that a familiar head of black hair appeared at the end of the hall, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped.

'How did it go?' asked Hermione hopefully.

'Terribly,' said Harry, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. 'He returned to his quarters this morning. Madam Pomfrey said he was not to "entertain" anyone for the foreseeable future and if she found me bothering him she would hunt me down.'

Cassy pulled the note from her pocket. 'Luna gave me this from the Headmaster.'

Immediately, Harry brightened.

The next night when Harry returned from his meeting with Professor Dumbledore, he told them about how his lessons were suspended until he obtained the memory. Even Professor Dumbledore did not expect him to harass Professor Slughorn after the incident and so that too was to be delayed until his health improved. That was, mentioned Neville, if Professor Slughorn returned to teaching at all. His obvious paranoia before he returned to the school spoke volumes about his fear for his life and having been poisoned, a thread of doubt weaved between the group of friends whether he would be back at all.

It was with the knowledge of the cessation of lessons that brought Harry to confess to Ginny and Luna that he had been given a secret task to complete, one neither of them could know about.

'But they can?' asked Ginny, nodding her head to Cassy, Neville, and Hermione.

'Dumbledore said they can know but no one else, I even asked about you both specifically,' assured Harry.

Ginny was not very happy, but she did not put up a fight. Luna just nodded passively, her eyes already having drifted to the chandelier that hung from a ceiling along the corridor.

The memory Harry had witnessed this time was of a young Tom Riddle visiting an elderly woman. He had brought her flowers, flattered her and sat down for tea. She liked him very much, completely ensnared by his charm. It was then that she revealed two things to him. The first was a golden chalice said to be the heirloom of Hufflepuff; it had remained in her family for years. The second was a locket. Oval with an emerald 'S' embezzled on the front door, it was said to be the necklace of Slytherin. She died two days later. Her house-elf confessed to her murder.

The next memory was one of Professor Dumbledore's own. An older Tom Riddle had returned to the castle to reapply for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had tried before, Harry explained, when he was just eighteen-years-old, but was found to be too young by the then Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore did not take kindly to his application. He saw straight through him, Harry explained as the idly through a Lumio in the air. He knew very well that Voldemort wished to return to the castle, not to teach, but to be present within its walls once again. For what, he was not sure, but his transition from Tom to Voldemort had evidently already begun. His skin was pearly white, his eyes glistening with hints of red. Any theories the Headmaster had on why he came back that day were to wait until Harry finally obtained the memory.

The halting of the lessons only served to increase Cassy's interest in what Horcruxes were. Harry had explained it was exceptionally dark magic, but there was something about them so vital to the war that all other information had to be stopped until that particular fact was confirmed or denied. It was evident to her that Voldemort had made a Horcrux, whatever it was, but there was something else in the memory that the Headmaster was after and it drove her mad that she could find nothing about them at all. Even when she and Hermione had spent half a night in the restricted section of the library, they returned with nothing.

There was simply not enough time to scour the library as thoroughly as Cassy would have liked. April was looming ever closer and that meant revision had to begin for her exams at the beginning of June. Apparition classes were now every Sunday for those seventeen or to be so before the end of June and she was currently engaged with back and forth correspondence with the Minister of Magic as well as promptly answering any letters Sirius forwarded.

With all her commitments, it had been several days since she had been able to properly talk to Harry. When she was free, he was not. The final Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was just over a month away and when he was not training, he was often found reading that thrice-damned book of the Prince's that Cassy had come to hate. It seemed that because he could no longer use it in class, it meant he felt the need to read it in his spare time and how he had not read it cover to cover by now and memorised it, she did not know. That was when she could find him, of course, for while she may have abandoned trailing Malfoy, he had not.

She supposed she partially fuelled his addiction by giving him new phrases to try to enter the room. It never seemed to make much difference, though. Cassy refused to partake. Even when Harry grumbled and growled about how much easier it would be if she joined in, she still refused. It was pointless and frankly, she had other things to be concerned with. It was only a matter of time before Harry gave up too.

After her talk with Malfoy, she had hardly seen him either. He avoided her with such impossible grace that Cassy actually began to take notice of the times he was not present, rather than the times he was. He was increasingly being signed out of lessons as ill, nausea and headaches, though nothing Madam Pomfrey prescribed seemed to have much effect for long. She was uncertain of how much of it was fake as Astoria told her all about his increasing sickness. From looking at him, it was painfully obvious something was wrong, but she supposed stress did that to a person; she certainly remembered how ill she had felt last year after the death of Alphard.

Yet, he was not any of her concern anymore. All thoughts of him were merely a lingering observation and any care was squashed in a manner than only well-practised isolation could achieve.

It was not until the last Monday of March that she saw him return to Potions. For all of their independent lessons or those covered by Professor Snape, he had been absent. When Professor Slughorn returned, he was once again silently occupying the back table.

'Hello, everyone,' greeted Professor Slughorn cheerfully. His cheeks sagged and his waist was slimmer. A certain paleness still occupied his normally rosy skin, but compared to when he had last been seen convulsing on the floor, he looked rather well. 'Sorry for my absence, but I am back in time to catch you up for your exams.'

'Why were you off?' called one student.

Professor Slughorn smiled and waved a hand dismissively. 'Bad drink! That's why when people give you a gift you must check it before you drink it. Lesson learnt, children.'

As usual, Harry did exceedingly well on his potion. Professor Slughorn beamed at him as he stared into his cauldron and Cassy took that as an indication to leave. She pulled Hermione and Ron from the room with her, leaving Harry alone with their teacher. It was less than a minute later he slipped through the door with a shake of his head. He had had no luck again.

* * *

 **Sorry, this is a bridging chapter. It's probably the one I like least from this year, so I'll upload another one soon to make up for it. Updates will remain about every three weeks at the moment because I have just finished the final chapter for this year and need to get some serious planning done before I let myself publish the final chapter. I like to have the entire plan done before I begin writing.**

 **See, the problem I'm having is that I find not a lot happens in the seventh book. There is a lot of sitting around and then something big will happen and then there is nothing. That's also my problem for this year, too. I find it difficult to write like that because I know I'm just repeating the story, so I will have to seriously put some thought into how to shake up seventh year. The next chapter should be up tomorrow, hopefully!**

 **Thanks!**


	22. From here to there

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XXII: From here to there**

The gloomy winter weather started to clear as April began. By the second week, the sun had parted the ever-present clouds and an increasing number of students could be seen braving the grounds in just jumpers and jackets instead of their thick woollen coats.

Any news on the war had been slow. There was little in the newspapers beyond the usual suspicions and lines of questions and doubts. Mundungus Fletcher had been caught impersonating an inferius and had been sent to Azkaban for an unstated amount of time. No one was bothered, not after he had been caught stealing from Grimmauld Place. Though with news slow, it meant people were turning to Cassy and Harry for information. No amount of redirection ceased the questioning. Failure to answer adequately left sour tastes and violent tongues. Threats had been spat and wands drawn, but when it came to it they all knew better than to attack. Harry was still The-Boy-Who-Lived, he was still the Chosen One, and Cassy was still gaining tremendous momentum and popularity as a voice of honest reason.

She had met with the Minister of Magic in the first week of April. She had delayed it by many months, but, at last, they sat face to face, separated by a great expanse of finely polished cherry wood. Professor Dumbledore, who had insisted she refer to him as "Albus" during their meeting as to reinforce her own position, had thoroughly discussed what she was and was not to answer to. She was already keenly aware of many things, but he did know Scrimgeour better than her; he knew what riled him inwardly and how he would attack. Yet, it was as much her stage as it was The Order of the Phoenix's. She had to present herself in a way beneficial to her long-term and not even Albus Dumbledore could stop that, not unless it harmed the Order's efforts.

Scrimgeour was curious about her. He questioned her rigorously about herself, seemingly searching for a pathway to something she suspected was untoward. She remained calm, although she hated the invasive probing. She returned it, though, questioning him on his past actions and his current plans. She questioned everything from his intentions to his contingency plans, what the Government knew and what they did not. She asked if the Muggle Prime Minister was aware of their war and a light flickered in his eyes and grew like a well-tended fire.

'Your mother was a Muggle, wasn't she?' he asked, elbows resting on the table and he leant forward in his seat.

Cassy tilted her head to one side and placed her teacup back on its saucer. 'I am not ashamed of my heritage, Minister. I am more damned by my Wizarding side than my Muggle one.'

'I meant nothing of the sort,' he assured, though his face did not relay the slightest hint of regret. 'I merely ask because I am curious as to whether you see much of your mother's family.'

Denial was on the tip of her tongue. There was a chance that pure-bloods would recoil at the sound of her familiarity with her relatives, but that was hardly her concern. She could not put her relatives at risk by associating them with her. Muggles were hardly difficult to track.

'No,' she said. 'I have never met them. It is not really the climate for it.'

Scrimgeour nodded thoughtfully.

From the highest towers to the lowest chambers, at least, as far as normal access allowed, Cassy was given a tour of the Ministry. She had fluttered in and out as a child between visits with Alphard and the Malfoys. She had seen a great deal more of the restricted section only months ago and had seen the legal chambers for her father's trial, but the Ministry was far larger than it appeared. There were floors five stories high to the outside world and nearing twenty deep beneath the ground. The corridors went up and along, side to side with staircases that led to seemingly other ends of the building and fireplaces littered the halls with people bustling in and out constantly.

The atrium had changed from her last visit. The giant golden statue at the centre no longer stood in a proud promise of a scarcely achieved unity. In fact, it was no longer there at all. The damage in the battle between Professor Dumbledore and Voldemort had destroyed too much of the decoration to restore it with a simple Repairo. There was nothing in its place. The giant statues that had survived remained, but the hall had lost much of its lustre.

Bodies bustled in and out of the room without any obvious recognition of the changes. While she was aware that the Ministry was the single largest employer of witches and wizards, she had not expected the concentration of people that worked within London's halls. She thought that perhaps that was why nothing was ever as effective as it could be, because their roles were not defined enough, overly flexible in that the workers would be whatever they were needed to be within their department. She dared not voice it, though. She could hardly question the Ministry with Percy Weasley standing right behind her. After all, he had written to Ginny and Ron accusing her and Harry of dragging them down. With the trouble she was causing his beloved government, she would gladly wager his opinion of her had not improved.

The only useful thing about his presence was the indicators in his facial expressions and body language that told Cassy exactly who she should and should not associate with. If he was too fond of them then she did not take much notice, but if he was wary then they were a person she would quite like to greet. When his face twisted into barely concealed disgust, she turned to the recently opened elevator door. Her eyes lit up.

'Mr Weasley!' she called.

A lanky man had clambered out of the packed elevator with a briefcase in hand. He blinked and removed his hat to reveal his thinning, red-hair. At first, his eyes landed on Scrimgeour, who he nodded politely to, and then to Percy, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze. Then, at last, his eyes flicked down to Cassy.

'Cassy!' he exclaimed and covered the distance between them in a short few steps. 'Up to exciting things today, are you?'

'Always, Mr Weasley,' she said warmly. 'How is everyone?'

'Can't complain,' he said, though his eyes tensed a fraction. Mrs Weasley was most likely still refusing to leave the house and there had been fears over a suspected plot to attack Diagon Alley that always conjured fears for Fred and George.

'Please let me know if there is anything you need,' she said sincerely and he smiled gently.

'Of course.'

Scrimgeour seemed put-out by Cassy's conversation with Mr Weasley. For a few moments, he trod carefully, his words more selected than before and it was as though he realised she was not present at the Weasley dinner merely as an extension of Harry. Cassy eyed him as they walked down a long tiled hallway towards the Auror office. Then, she smiled pleasantly.

'Are you alright, Minister?' she asked.

'Of course, Lady Black. Why do you ask?' he replied, his hands tucked behind his back as they walked side by side. Percy remained a few feet behind, dutifully silent.

'You have grown quiet. I was afraid you had grown bored with me,' she said falsely playful.

'I was just thinking, My Lady,' he assured. A smile pulled at his lips but did not meet his eyes. It looked horribly forced and suddenly Cassy was aware of why he did not bother to pretend to be anything other than the stubborn, fierce individual he had proven himself to be.

'Well, rest assured I intend to keep the Ministry entertained in the future. I have many plans, after all. I do hope we can work together,' she said. It was a conscious effort to turn her smug smirk into a bright smile and then she was still sure it probably looked more conniving than anything else.

He nodded stiffly. 'As do I, Lady Black, as do I.'

The meeting had not lasted much beyond lunch. The Minister was adamant in his letters that she should dine with him and the Deputy Minister. It was a rather unpleasant affair. Scrimgeour was clearly not in the practice of having to be polite to people he did not tolerate, but he was clearly trying and for that Cassy had to thank him. She did need him to like her on a basic level, even if it was merely to respect her position. That was why she accepted a photograph being taken for the Daily Prophet with them beside one another, though when the photograph was published the next day neither looked very pleased. Cassy's smile looked more like a cold smirk on the face of a woman who was about to kill a man and the Minister had not even lifted the corner of his lips.

'They always take the worst photograph and publish it,' she complained as she scoured the article for information. Exactly what they had to fill the front page with she did not know and that made her wary.

'I don't know about that,' said Neville. 'You certainly look like you're on the way to conquering the world.'

'I look devilish,' she said, frowning.

'I'm not complaining,' muttered Harry in her ear. She could hear the smirk on his lips and without turning, elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Neville raised his eyebrows but wisely chose not to comment.

'We'd better get going before someone else tries to take the pitch,' said Harry and stood.

Reluctantly, Cassy followed him. As the weather improved and Cassy's scheduled cleared in the wake the meeting with Scrimgeour would cause, Harry had finally pinned her down and demanded they do something together. She had no complaints about that and, in fact, was delighted he had asked her instead of her having to ask him; it was comforting to know he too had noticed the increasing distance between them in the last month.

Although, she much rather be doing nearly anything else than learning to fly again.

'You said you wanted to learn,' he said, unlocking the broom cupboard with the captain's key.

'I don't believe I have ever said that in my life,' she muttered and he ignored her. Harry handed her a broom she knew to be Ginny's before taking out his Firebolt. Suddenly, an idea flashed in Cassy's head and unable to stop herself, she dropped the broomstick and placed both hands squarely on Harry's toned back. With all her weight pushed to the front of her feet, she shoved him forward and slammed the cupboard door shut.

'Cassy!' he shouted, banging on the thin wood with his fist.

'Oh, no, how did that happen?' she called through innocently. Before she could fumble with the padlock and shut him in completely, he forced the latch away and flung the door open again. Immediately, he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her into the air. She let out a strange noise, one caught somewhere between a laugh and a shriek.

'Why don't you go in the cupboard if you like it so much?' he said and swung her around.

One of her flailing arms caught the door frame. Harry over-powered her easily.

In the end, the two found their way to the pitch much later than originally planned. It was fortunate that no one had claimed it in the time they had been absent, though Cassy considered it rather unfortunate really. It was only a mix between Harry's eager smile and knowing that even Hermione was more confident on a broomstick that made Cassy kick from the ground with determination and resignation. After about half-an-hour of flying in circles, she sped up suddenly and twisted in a sharp circle. Her eyes fluttered to where Harry was fiddling with his glasses, mostly glad he had not seen her in case she had fallen.

'I did see that,' he said suddenly and Cassy narrowed her eyes.

'Why is flying the only time you are observant?' she called back, swooping up to him.

'Don't get cocky now,' he said, smirking. 'We're thirty feet in the air, remember.'

'So?'

'So, you are the one afraid of heights,' he said.

'I am not,' she replied indignantly. 'I just don't see why anyone would choose to do this when they could travel another way. The Thestrals, for example, were perfectly pleasant.'

Despite Harry's warnings, Cassy did dive to the ground. When she pulled up six-feet from the damp grass below, she reached out a long limb to smack him, adamant she did not need him to follow her in case she slipped off. He evaded easily and threw up both his hands before smacking one down heavily on the end of her broomstick and almost throwing her off head first.

'Don't lock me in a cupboard,' he said as she struggled to straighten back up again.

'Oh, please, you hardly minded,' she scoffed.

He reached out to hit the broom again and Cassy smacked away his hand.

'Don't you dare,' she warned.

Harry grinned. Cassy tightened her grip.

As it turned out, Cassy was not a terrible flier. Harry knew it was most likely her sense of competition that had her instinctively turning and that had dissolved her concerns about flying altogether. Still, she was no match for him and it was not until a particularly hard knock sent her sprawling on the ground that he remembered she really had not flown in seventeen years and was not hardened to the sport like he was used to.

They returned to flying normally after that. Cassy rubbed her left shoulder as she drifted higher above the stadium.

'What are you going to do when we go to Apparition practice this afternoon?' she asked, turning to watch him swoop around her again.

'I might look into the Room of Requirement again,' he said and Cassy refrained from sighing.

Of course, she thought bitterly, she had brought up the very conversation she had wished to avoid. They could not even have a few hours without either her cousin of the Half-Blood Prince being mentioned.

'Can you not just look into Crabbe or Goyle's mind and see what room he's asking for?' he asked and Cassy abandoned any hope of the subject being dropped quickly.

'They did not even know he is trying to fix something. He is not going to tell them what room he is after so they can go in and potentially steal his glory, is he? He refused to even let his Godfather know a hint of his plans,' said Cassy blandly. 'Even if I could, when do I have time for something like that? Think of the planning needed.'

Harry hummed.

'You can always learn Occlumency yourself,' she added and he grimaced.

'That didn't really work last time, did it?' he said. 'I've been thinking about it and what he's trying to fix must be rather large or conspicuous in some way, because otherwise he wouldn't have tried so hard to stay over Christmas break. I know his mother made him return in the end, but he was clearly unhappy about it, so it makes me think whatever he's trying to do is not something that can be removed from that room. If he can't take it out the castle again, then it's probably something that was already here to begin with.'

Cassy blinked owlishly. 'You have been thinking.'

'I do that occasionally,' he said.

'Very occasionally.'

'Ha-ha,' he said. 'Another thing I wondered about, can you Polyjuice a Polyjuice? I mean, if you've taken one, can you take another and change into someone else, while still being the first person? If I changed into, say Crabbe, then had to change into another student when Malfoy asked me to, could I?'

Cassy squinted. 'Harry, I love you, but I could tell you fifty reasons that would be a terrible idea.'

Harry nearly slipped from his broom.

For a moment, Cassy merely stared in surprise, then like a match put to petrol, her face burnt brightly. That was a little phrase that had never left her mouth before, not for anyone, not even family. She cleared her throat loudly.

'Why did you want to know anyway? You need to leave Malfoy alone and concentrate on the memory,' she said sternly.

Harry's smile slipped and he scowled. 'Slughorn doesn't want to talk to me. I've tried waiting behind in Potions every day for the last two weeks and he always runs out and I've been to his office twice after hours and once I swore I heard him silence his gramophone to pretend he wasn't in. And, for your information, I love you too.'

* * *

After lunch, Cassy and Hermione waved goodbye to Harry and Neville. The boys were still seated at the Gryffindor table, the youngest of their sixth-year housemates. Only a small handful of students remained from their year, the cut-off date of the end of June containing a majority of birthdays. Harry did not mind after having taken an immediate dislike to the travelling method the day Plum had whisked him away from his relatives; Neville had not been fond of returning to lessons from the very first time a student's leg was Splinched off.

For as much as Cassy had taken a liking to her father's motorbike, and how proud of her he was for that, she very much wanted to pass the test and pass it first time. She did not want any nonsense about leaving her fingers behind or Splinching off her skin, and she certainly did not want to have to retake it in the summer. A voice in the back of her mind warned her there would be no time for that. She would have far too much to do and she already feared Voldemort was making hasty plans. She could not risk not being able to Apparate if the time called for it.

Cassy and Hermione waited until the mass of other sixth-years had departed down the crooked stone steps away from the castle before they did the same. Filch signed them out, sneering and baring his yellow teeth at them in suspicion. He called out to them in warning, snarling as he threatened to search their pockets and shoes when they returned to ensure no nasty Weasley Wizarding Wheezes had been brought back into the school.

'How nice of him to remember who we are friends with,' muttered Cassy as they walked away.

The steps had not been trodden in some time. It was not since the icy tendrils of early winter had anyone been allowed for far from the castle grounds. Students were warned away from the forest's edge by Hagrid nearly every day and the lake was no longer deemed safe for the edges ran too near to the beaten pathway that led back to the train station. Even loitering near the greenhouses, no matter how innocent, was viewed with suspicious eyes; everyone was always ferried from one place to another by a member of staff or an over enthusiastic Prefect. Most often, that person tended to be Hermione. She had long since given up ushering her friends along. She had not bothered since the first month of fifth-year.

The grounds were always quiet. A hush had fallen over them when September first had seen the students return. With them, they brought fear, not an intense, overwhelming one, not even one that was often noticeable, but little changes had occurred in the last few months that changed the very nature of the castle. Students were afraid. Hogwarts was rumoured to be the most secure location in Britain and yet, Voldemort had entered twice since they had begun their schooling and he had managed to kill a student only two years before. It was a quiet fear that one no one discussed.

Only Twycross' enthusiastic reminders of his 'D' principals punctuated Cassy's musings. Hermione walked silently beside her, her eyes facing upwards towards the new vibrant leaves and the cloudless sky.

It was the first lesson they had had outside of the castle. The Order would be present, unseen by there, surely. Cassy thought that even if Harry had been of age to attend, he would not have been able to. Some excuse would have been made, the venue perhaps moved to ensure he did not leave the secure grounds.

Outside of Madam Puddifoot's cafe, they split into pairs and took a hoop from a large pile Twycross had brought with him. When Cassy was passed a hoop by Dean, she realised her partner was gone.

'Don't look now, but history is in the making,' muttered Dean, grinning.

Cassy very much did turn around to follow his gaze. Not too far away, Hermione was stood with Ron. Hermione's cheeks were flushed, a hand raised to her mouth to smother her giggles. She was looking at the ground, missing the warmth in Ron's eyes as he gazed down at her, smiling. They had been speaking more since Ron and Lavender parted. Hermione seemed assured by his words and Harry's blunt declaration that Ron was only dating Lavender because he was desperate to stop Ginny's taunting. Yet, she had not said anything more about it and no one had brought it up with her again.

'I told Ron to just talk to her,' said Dean. 'I mean, look at them, it's pretty obvious she likes him back, but he won't do it. He's in denial.'

'His breakup was spectacular,' commented Cassy.

'I like Lavender,' said Dean, 'but they were an annoying couple.'

'Seamus quite fancied her, didn't he?' It was more of a statement than a question. She had noticed the averted eyes and the twitches when they had been around him. At first, she had thought it had been annoyance, but then she recalled how Seamus had gone to the Yule Ball with Lavender. 'Did they ever date?'

'In fourth year,' said Dean non-committally, 'but I can't say much about that.'

Cassy waved her hand flippantly. She did not expect him too.

'I think they won't admit their feelings until after we've left school,' said Dean, nodding back to Hermione and Ron.

She hummed thoughtfully. 'If it lasts that long. I am not sure they can keep this up much longer, but I would wager between September and Christmas, if they were to say anything at all.'

'You think they won't?' questioned Dean, his eyebrows raised high into his hairline.

'They argue constantly,' said Cassy simply. 'I do not think they know if they are coming or going with one another. If it continued on much longer, I reckon one of them will just give up.'

'Well, aren't you quite the romantic,' snorted Dean.

'What's going on?'

Cassy and Dean turned to see Seamus beside them. A hoop in his hand too.

'We've made a bet about _You-Know-Who_ ,' said Dean, hushed.

Seamus recoiled. 'Why on Earth would you do that?'

'No, no,' said Dean quickly, 'I meant, y'know – Ron.'

'Oh,' said Seamus, his shoulders relaxing again. 'What kind of bet?'

'When he and Hermione will get together,' he said.

'Oh, before the end of the summer holidays, definitely,' said Seamus easily.

'That quickly? Asked Dean. When Seamus nodded he stuck out a hand to Cassy and Seamus each. 'Fine then, we'll see who's right.'

They all shook hands and ignored the cries of Twycross that they had really had long enough to collect a hoop between their pairs. It was a few seconds later that Hermione appeared at Cassy's side once again, her cheeks still lightly flushed and none the wiser to the bet. Quickly, everyone scattered into their own spaces with small battles to find a space for their hoop some fifty-feet from where they stood without mistaking it for another's. They each managed a few goes with only a few incidences in between. Pavarti had left behind her right show and Seamus had lost one of his toes, but there were not large mistakes or raging screams like there had been in the past.

At the end of the day, Twycross ushered them all into The Three Broomsticks to congratulate them on having completed their final practice session.

'The test is next Friday and you all have the capability to pass, you just need to remember the three principal rules!'

Friday came by quickly. The time of their examination was during Potions and they left Harry to try once again to whoo Professor Slughorn into giving him the memory. He had become desperate, the pages of the Prince's book clutched closely to his chest at all times. A spell or a potion was what he sought from the battered textbook. He eagerly read the tight scrawl in the narrow margins over and over, but had had no luck thus far of discovering anything. Hermione had grown frustrated and told him to set it aside, that such tactics were all wrong and anyone could do it if it meant tricking it out of him, but he refused.

'Look, I can't think of anything and until I do - ' he said flatly as they descended the stairs.

'Until you do you better keep trying, Harry! Not trailing after Malfoy at every chance you get. The room won't open and you know it,' snapped Hermione, her patience dwindling quickly.

'There will only be three of you in Potions today, you, Ernie, and Malfoy,' interjected Cassy. 'It will probably be your best chance for one on one attention.'

'The memory needs to be gotten soon,' said Neville, adding his thoughts to the discussion for the first time that day. Often, he kept out of the increasing arguments. The battles were becoming more and more frequent with every week that passed and the memory did not emerge. Now, his eyes were fixed on two dark-haired girls, one taller than the other, who walked sluggishly towards them, heads down and eyes rimmed red. 'It's the Montgomery sisters.'

'What about them?' asked Harry, who had long since stopped reading the _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione eyed him. 'Their brother was attacked by a werewolf, apparently their mother refused to help Voldemort. The boy died in hospital.'

'He died?' repeated Harry in shock. His head whipped around to check the sisters had not heard him. 'I thought they tended to turn other people, not kill them. It wasn't Fenrir Greyback, was it?'

Hermione nodded grimly. 'They think so. Harry, this is why the memory needs to be top priority. Voldemort needs to be stopped as quickly as possible.'

Harry pursed his lips. 'I'll see what I can do.'

With that, they parted ways. Harry descended into the dungeons and Neville towards the greenhouses; Cassy and Hermione followed the thin trail of shuffling bodies out onto the grounds. A few steps ahead of them were the other Gryffindors, though Ron stood on the far side of his friends and Lavender stood on the other. Ron stiffly looked anywhere but at her, turning so far away that he ended up peering round behind him straight at Cassy and Hermione. His eyes lit up.

He twisted and hurried over to them. No one seemed to notice, with the exception of Lavender, her face flushed an angry scarlet and she stormed ahead without any warning besides a loud, shrill growl. Ron did not pause to let any side comment leave either girls' lips.

'How's things with Slughorn going?' he asked, falling into step with them.

Harry had told him a half-truth, like what he had told Ginny and Luna. They all knew he needed something from Professor Slughorn, but none of them knew what, not even if it was a memory, information, or even a potion. All they were certain of was that it was not going well at all.

'Harry needs a miracle,' said Cassy dispassionately.

'He just needs a lucky break,' said Ron easily. 'Ah!'

He jumped excitedly on the stop and Cassy and Hermione paused to take in the ridiculous sight. He flapped his hands, beaming like he had single-handedly saved the world.

'Luck,' he said. 'Why doesn't he just use Liquid Luck?'

Cassy and Hermione gaped.

'Ron,' breathed Hermione, 'you're a genius.'

'You took your time noticing,' he said cheekily.

'Oh, why didn't I think of that?' muttered Hermione.

In disbelief, Cassy rubbed a hand over her eyes. It was the easiest solution. She had forgotten about the tiny phial. Having not been present when the competition was underway, she had not given it any more thought at all. Not once since the year began had she given the potion a second glance. She was so consumed in imaging various ways to charm Professor Slughorn that she did not think that _luck_ could possibly have anything to do with it.

'We'll have to tell him when we get back,' said Hermione.

Cassy looked down at her watch and frowned grimly. 'We have five minutes before the test begins.'

They had only allowed the students minutes to spare between the end of their lesson and their exam beginning. They had stopped to chat in the Entrance Hall and again on the muddied pathway to the village to lament their own stupidity for several long moments, their footsteps had not been hurried to begin with and they were still minutes away from the outskirts of the houses, let alone the main street. So, they did the only thing they could and set off in a sprint down the hill, leapt over the cobbled steps and continued to run until they came face to face with the boarded and abandoned Zonko's shop at the very end of the street.

They panted lightly as they quickly huddled at the back of the cluster of students. To the side, Professor Flitwick glanced at them and scribbled their names down on a piece of parchment.

'That's everyone,' he called to Twycross.

Beside him today was a woman in the same yellow uniform, looking much less cheerful than their instructor.

'The day is here!' announced Twycross loudly. 'If you just all do what you have been doing in our practices then I have no doubt you will do great. Determination, destination, and deliberation – our three core principals. Follow them like I taught you and this test will be simple.

'I want you to get into an Alphabetical line using your surnames. You will go one at a time from the marker on the ground to the other end of the street. You can't see Madam Puddifoot's from where we stand now, but with any luck, you'll see it in a few minutes. There is an examiner on the other end to see how well you get there. Right, good luck everyone.'

Everyone scrambled to slot themselves into were they fit in the line. Professor Flitwick huffed as he pulled people from one spot to another and reorganised the sixth-years when it became apparent ordering themselves required more thought than had been expected. When they were in one long line, mostly confident they were in the correct places, silence fell.

'Okay,' said Twycross. 'Abbott, Hannah?'

Hannah stepped forward onto the painted 'X'. After a few seconds, there was a loud crack and she was gone. Cassy could not help but let her eyes drift to the floor. There lay a small pile of fingernails.

Twycross grimaced. With his wand, he gathered them up into a small paper bag and tapped a little box that flashed red and flashed back red in response. 'Next, Black, Cassiopeia.'

Cassy stepped up to the mark. She breathed in deeply and then exhaled through her mouth. This was not like her other exams, where she had a chance to redo it if something were to go wrong before she left the centre to gain some marks regardless. She would have to wait until July for a chance to try again if she failed. She breathed in again and shut her eyes. _Pop!_ A familiar whirling pulled at her stomach, her insides churned and for a moment there was nothing but a light breeze surrounding her. Then, it all staggered to a stop. Her feet hit solid ground and despite her stomach's determination to continue churning, she stood straight and still, thankful for having known the sensation for so many years.

Her eyes blinked open. The pink canopies of Madam Puddifoot's stood to her right. There was no pain and her fingernails were all attached; none of her clothes were missing and her hair remained tightly tied on her head. She had made it.

She dared not celebrate yet, for the stern woman who had been with Twycross earlier was quickly walking towards her. She looked her over, turned her head side to side and inspected her hands closely. She turned to the little box that sat on an outside table of the teashop. The lights remained off and the woman nodded to herself, her face lightening.

'Congratulations, you've passed.'

'Thank-you,' said Cassy, finally smiling.

The woman tapped the box and a green light flashed for a moment before it faded.

Cassy turned and strode away from the Apparition target area. Ahead was Professor McGonagall, her wand in hand, standing despite being surrounded by chairs. Cassy sat.

'Well done, Miss Black,' said Professor McGonagall, her eyes trained forward.

'Thank-you, Professor. Side-Apparition helps a lot, I believe,' she said.

'Your father took two tries to pass,' continued the Head of House. 'He might have passed first time if Mister Potter hadn't shouted just as he went to go. Then again, Mister Potter might have passed first time too, if Sirius hadn't thrown a rock at him. The examiner could not decide if the crack in his glasses was because of a faulty manoeuvrer or because of the rock.'

Cassy laughed. 'Honestly, Professor, I have no idea how you put up with them.'

'The reason my hair turned grey at thirty-five is because of your father and his friends,' she replied back flatly, though a ghost of a fond smile tugged at her lips.

'I will be sure to let him know.'

'Oh, I have told him _many_ times.'

There was a loud crack and Terry Boot staggered outside of the tea shop. After a quick once over, the examiner passed him and Lavender who came after. Michael Conner failed, having lost a chunk of his ear and Crabbe had disappeared from the village altogether. He later appeared soaked through. Seamus, Antony Goldstein, and Goyle each passed.

When it was Hermione's turn, the second she landed, she clapped her hands over her face and began to muttered hurriedly to herself. The examiner hurried over and pried her hands away from her face, though it quickly became apparent nothing was wrong. When it was announced she passed, Hermione all but ran to Cassy and dropped into the saved seat at the little metal table.

'Why were you panicking?' questioned Cassy.

'I thought I'd missed the mark! I was at least a foot away from the centre of the shop,' moaned Hermione.

Cassy stared blankly. 'How do you function when you dwell on things like that?'

Daphne passed flawlessly. Ernie nearly toppled over upon the landing, but recovered quickly and still passed. Both the Patil twins passed, as did Dean.

There was a crack and standing tall and without a single hint of a wobble, Ron stood perfectly outside of the shop. He checked himself over a gave a whoop of happiness. Hermione beamed and clapped, but fell silent when Ron suddenly stilled. They were too far away to hear what was said. His ears tinged red and violently he kicked the old stone wall of the shop before he stalked over to the girls.

'Half my eyebrow is missing!' he snapped as he threw himself down into a nearby seat.

'You can't even really tell,' said Hermione calmingly.

Ron kicked the table between them.

Lastly, Zabini popped into sight some distance away, perfectly healthy.

* * *

 **Sorry, I ended up being a lot busier than I expected.**

 **Anyway, thanks for the reviews. I love them as always!**

 **Hope you liked it.**

 **Thanks!**


	23. The burial at midnight

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XXIII: The burial at midnight**

Everyone returned to the castle, the air thick with mixed emotions. Despite Hermione's attempts, nothing seemed to brighten Ron's mood. She and Cassy and passed, Dean and Seamus had passed too and, in fact, he was the only Gryffindor not to do so. No kind words and recalls of how well he had done really when he could not Apparate at all last week worked to ease the tension. Those who had been Splinched had all been sent to Madam Pomfrey for a quick check despite the Ministry's own healer being present.

Ginny met Dean in the Entrance Hall, though their conversation quickly took a sour turn if the quickened tongues and sharp whispers were anything to go by. Everyone else continued to the common room. Hermione threw open the door excitedly.

'I passed!' she cheered, instantly spotting Harry and Neville who were seated by the fire.

'Excellent,' cheered Neville.

'And what about you?' asked Harry craning to peer at Cassy. She perched on the edge of the armchair he was seated in and swooped down to kiss him.

'How do you think I did?' she asked and he grinned. 'More importantly, how were things with the memory?'

Harry's lips thinned.

'Nevermind,' said Hermione brightly.

Harry and Neville stared.

'Really?' asked Harry slowly.

'Why?' questioned Neville, just as warily.

'Because,' said Hermione, grinning. 'Ron came up with a brilliant idea. You just need a bit of luck.'

Harry was quiet. 'Hermione, I need a miracle.'

'No, Harry, luck,' she said excitedly.

Harry continued to stare for a few seconds longer. The gears in his mind began to turn visibly and a light flared in his eyes.

'That's brilliant!' he exclaimed. 'The potion!'

'Exactly,' proclaimed Hermione.

'We were thinking you can go tonight after dinner when Professor Slughorn has not hidden himself away for the weekend,' explained Cassy.

Harry nodded quickly and then paused. His shoulders slumped and he frowned as he turned to Neville, who wore a similar expression.

'What is it?' asked Hermione.

'I can't go tonight. I got a letter,' said Harry. He delved into his trouser pocket and pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from it. Unfolding it, he gave it to Cassy. The first thing she noticed were the many smears across the page. The ink had ran and splattered, as though water had dripped from a great height down onto the fresh words as it had been penned. The second thing she noticed was that it was undeniably Hagrid's writing.

 _Dear everyone,_

 _Aragog died last night. I know you would have loved him. Cassy, you wanted to meet him and it's a shame you couldn't see him in his prime. He was very special to me, so it would mean a lot if some of you would pop down at dusk to help me bury him. It was his favourite time of day. I know you're not supposed to leave the castle after dark, but I can't face it alone. You can use the cloak._

 _Hagrid._

When Cassy had read it, she passed it on to Hermione.

'Did you actually ask to meet him?' queried Neville warily.

'He was an Acromantula,' said Cassy as though that explained everything. 'Do you know how unusual they are to see? Besides, their venom alone is valuable because it is so hard to obtain - it's illegal to trade without a licence - their hairs are even rarer. You can make many potions with those ingredients that the average person would never dream existed!'

'I don't think Hagrid will appreciate it if you harvest his dead pet,' joked Neville, though high cheeks had taken a green hue, and Cassy hummed.

'At any rate, I will go and help Hagrid with the burial. Harry can speak to Professor Slughorn. I can tell from the look on your face you are not keen to join me,' she said simply.

'You can't, Cassy. You have to meet with Professor Dumbledore tonight,' pointed out Hermione.

'He will have to excuse me,' said Cassy simply. She knew her priorities seemed skewed, but she was certain Professor Dumbledore would forgive her for cancelling, no matter how displeased he may be to find she left the castle after hours.

'No one should be going anywhere,' said Hermione sternly. 'We can't just leave the castle. There are Aurors dotted everywhere, think of the trouble we'd be in if we were caught.'

'We've gone at night to see him before,' said Harry.

'Not for something like this! If Aragog had still been alive, then maybe, but we can't risk it to bury a giant spider,' she returned, handing the letter back to him. 'You're not seriously going to go, are you?'

Cassy looked back down at the letter in Harry's hands. The tears had continued to fall even the morning after he had died. She nodded to herself.

'Yes, I am,' she said. 'If I get into trouble them it will be a series of detentions at worst. I offered to help Hagrid if he ever wanted me to, so I have to try.'

'That's absurd,' scoffed Hermione beneath her breath.

Cassy ignored her. 'I will go by myself. Can I borrow your cloak after dinner?'

Harry nodded reluctantly. It was clear then and all through the meal that he much rather help Hagrid bury a giant spider than confront Professor Slughorn one final time. Yet, they all knew the memory could not wait any longer. The Montgomery sisters were not present at dinner and, more curiously, neither was Ginny. Further down the table sat Dean. There seemed to be nothing peculiar in how he acted, until Ron opened his mouth and subtle stiffness rose within his shoulders. He and Seamus laughed, but the tenseness in his muscles did not fade.

Cassy frowned. That explained why Luna was not present either.

'I think,' said Cassy lowly, 'Ginny and Dean have broken up.'

Harry, Neville, and Hermione turned to look at her.

'What makes you say that?' asked Harry, frowning.

'Dean is clearly stressed around Ron, and Ginny and Luna are both not present. Hermione and I saw them argue after the test, but we just let them be,' she said. 'I may be wrong, but someone might have to go and have a look for them.'

As it turned out, Cassy was not wrong. A quick glanced on the Marauders Map found her and Hermione down one of the long second-floor corridors on their way to a small girls' toilets. Harry and Neville chose to remain behind, though Cassy pointed out Neville would likely be more comforting than she would be, yet she knew her better and went none the less. Part of her was sceptical as to whether they should be present at all, or if Ginny would really want to see her if her relationship had just ended. She could clearly recall the bitterness in her voice when she had last mentioned Cassy and Harry's relationship weeks prior. Although she knew Ginny was accustomed to it now, it did not stop Cassy wondering if she should really be the one to enquire after her as she was. She hardly wanted to make it any worse.

Hermione poked her head around the door first and within seconds, Ginny's heavy sigh echoed through the room. She smiled at the pair as the door swung heavily shut behind them.

'Figured it out then?' asked Ginny from where she was perched on a sink. There were no tear streaks on her face, although her her eyes rimmed with red. Her face had been freshly washed.

'How are you?' Hermione shuffled towards her.

'Fine, fine,' said Ginny with a sigh. 'I broke up with Dean, so I'm not too upset about it.'

'I thought you two were doing really well,' said Hermione, frowning.

'We were for a while, but it's not really in his nature to sit back and let me do things by myself when he thinks he can help. It's just irritating, y'know? He's always there trying to do things for me and during Quidditch he's constantly shouting at people for bumping into me, or trying to do the more difficult throws so I don't have to dive for it. I know it's not much, but it's been bothering me for months. It's overbearing. It's not what I want,' said Ginny. She shrugged when she finished speaking and then her eyes flickered over to Cassy.

'Thanks, though, for speaking to him. It worked for a while,' she said knowingly, a small smile gracing her freckled face.

'Ah, he came to me for advice. I was unsure of what to say,' replied Cassy, shifting.

Still, Ginny smiled. As they spoke, no word of Cassy and Harry's relationship was thrown into dispute. There was no hint of bitterness or jealousy. They spoke for a few more minutes before an eerie and unwanted sound echoed around them. A dull _thunk thunk_ rang up through the worn pipes, with them came high-pitched whines and coos that halted the moment the ghostly face of Moaning Myrtle wedged itself free from the sink basin. She pouted.

'Hello, Myrtle,' said Luna dreamily.

Myrtle scowled at her. 'It's you four.'

'Expecting someone, were you?' asked Ginny flatly, having no patience for the ghost.

Moaning Myrtle sneered and flew high into the air, her arms folded tightly across her chest. 'For your information, I was. A boy, not that it's any of your business.'

'A boy comes to visit you?' clarified Ginny in surprise.

'Yes, he does,' said Myrtle smugly. 'He's a sensitive soul, he was crying when we met, but oh, I understand him. He said he'd visit, but then Harry said the same thing.' Her smirk dulled.

'A boy was crying in here?' said Hermione, her eyes narrowed. 'In the girls' toilets?'

Myrtle sneered once more. 'Of course not in here. I heard his cries through the pipes and followed him... I thought perhaps... but no, it's not any of your business.'

The conversation ended and the girls split ways when Moaning Myrtle refused to leave them be. Ginny and Luna went to the library to do homework, which spared Cassy and Hermione the trouble of explaining the plan for the evening. In the common room, Harry was still waiting. Cassy had half expected him to have left already and when she asked, he merely shrugged.

'When we left he was still eating. I didn't think it would help much to burst into the hall and demand it off him, even with extra luck,' he said.

He held out his arm to reveal the Invisibility Cloak that was draped across it. Cassy took it gratefully.

'How is she?' asked Neville, concerned.

'She is putting on a brave face, but she will be fine,' she said assuringly. 'She is with Luna now in the library.'

Harry and Neville nodded to themselves.

'Right,' said Hermione, eyeing the students around them carefully for signs of listening ears, 'go straight to Slughorn's office.'

Harry pulled the phial of shimmering, molten liquid from his pocket. Uncorking it, he carefully held it in his hand, inspecting it closely. 'I shouldn't need much. A few hours at most, so...'

Cautiously, when they were all confident no one watching, Harry tipped his head back in a measured mouthful. The moment he swallowed, he paused, frozen on the spot with no expression.

'So, how is it?' asked Neville warily.

Slowly, a grin pulled at Harry's lips. Without a word and before anyone could speak, he turned on the spot and threw one arm around Cassy's waist. He tugged her close and firmly kissed her. Swiftly, just as Cassy managed to blink in surprise, he pulled away, his arm still locked around her.

'I feel fantastic, never better,' he announced cheerfully. The smile was so wide now that he looked giddy and excitable; a slight shake rippled through him, as though his energy was building to great heights and needed an outlet quickly.

'Right,' said Hermione slowly. 'So, the plan - '

'I'm going to Hagrid's,' he said.

'No!' said Hermione quickly at the same time Neville asked 'Why?'

'Are you coming?' Harry looked down at Cassy.

'So, you aren't going to see Slughorn?' questioned Neville uncertainly.

'Yes, he is! We have a plan, Harry,' protested Hermione.

'I know, but I just feel like Hagrid's is the place to be, y'know what I mean?' he said.

Hermione bit her lip while Cassy stared up at him both bemused and amused.

'Did you take the right potion?' asked Hermione warily. 'Cassy didn't give you anything?'

Cassy frowned. 'What kind of accusation is that?'

'I didn't mean that,' she replied, waving her hand. 'I just wondered if it might have been mixed up.'

'It's fine,' said Harry. 'Felix will sort it out and besides, if Cassy's with me then there's no way she'll be caught sneaking about and given more detentions.' Suddenly, he picked Cassy up by her waist like a child might hold a textbook and hauled her towards the door. 'We best be off!'

Cassy struggled for a moment at the sight of the peculiar faces of their housemates, indignantly protesting needing to be carried at all. He dropped her back on her feet when they were through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady giggled at them and Cassy ignored her in favour of smoothing her clothes. The Invisibility Cloak was still draped over her arm, but as Harry took off in a strut down the hall, she knew she did not need it. Jogging to catch up with his long stride, she peered up at him curiously. Harry's personality had changed. It was as though no doubt lingered in the peripheries of his mind, for once, he was unburdened by the weight of the expectations he had always had and the whispers that followed his passing presence.

He walked with and without purpose. The spring in his step made him appear idle, relaxed without any expectation of where he should be or who he should see. He meandered through the halls, his head turned to gaze at each portrait and flickering flame of the lamps on the walls. Yet, his feet moved quickly and he turned with certainty.

'This is an unusual way to Hagrid's,' commented Cassy as they walked straight through the castle's entrance and diverted around the side of the building. The distant sloping roofs of the greenhouses began to appear over the thickening tangles of branches of wild bushes and dense shrubbery.

'Yeah,' said Harry. One of his hands was still securely around her own. He tugged her alongside the vegetable patch and made for the closest greenhouse. The door was open, pushed to and yet wide enough for them to angle their heads to see inside. They heard the voices before they saw them. One was warm and cheerful, as always, and the other was low and thankful.

'Is that all you need?' asked Professor Sprout as she handed a small matchbox of leaves to Professor Slughorn.

'Yes, that and then some,' he said, smiling. 'I have plenty in case my third years forget to shred and not crush them.'

'If you need any more, let me know,' she said.

'Thank-you for doing this so late, they're more potent when picked in the evening, you see, and I'm not given anyone an excuse to complain if they're potion's not quite right!'

Professor Sprout laughed and bid him a good night.

As soon as she had vanished through the other door at the opposite end of the greenhouse, Harry threw the glass door open with a shuddering bang. Professor Slughorn jumped, the box of leaves spilt all over the floor.

'Goodness!' he squawked, his hand over his heart. 'When did you two get so quiet?'

'Sorry, Professor,' said Harry in a tone that suggested he did not care in the slightest.

Professor Slughorn stooped to collect the leaves and eyed the pair narrowly. 'How did you get out here, anyway?'

'Oh, Filch must have left the front door unlocked. We walked straight through,' he said with a careless shrug.

Cassy closed her eyes. His tone was chirpy and wholly inappropriate for their situation.

'Damn that man,' muttered Professor Slughorn. 'He's been useless since the day he started here. I always tell Albus, but he won't hear of it... what are you doing out here? It's almost dark!'

It was as though he had suddenly remembered he had rules to enforce and not merely chat idly with his favourite students; he frowned deeply at them as he stood again.

'Hagrid has asked us to attend the funeral of his acromantula,' admitted Cassy. It seemed senseless to lie. Harry had been quite determined to get there before, they would certainly only end up there at some point that evening, she was certain.

'An acromantula?' repeated Professor Slughorn in awe. 'Wherever did he get it?'

'He's had it for years since it was an egg,' said Harry taking a step backwards out of the greenhouse. 'Anyway, Sir, we really must be off. We promised to help him bury it. You won't tell anyone, though, will you? I don't want Hagrid to get into trouble. He's already devastated.'

Professor Slughorn twitched as though startled by his voice. His eyes cleared of their cloudy haze. 'No, no, I won't tell, but I can't let you two wander the grounds at night alone. No, no, I will simply have to come with you.' His voice suddenly dropped. 'Acromantula venom is extremely rare and if it died recently then he might let me harvest some... my salary is not much and it sells for two-hundred Galleons to the right buyer...'

'By all means, Sir, come along, but we really must be going,' said Harry, who then turned on his heel and set off without another word. A grin stretched across the width of his face.

Behind them, trailed Professor Slughorn. He muttered frequently to himself; Cassy could only catch odd words, but they seemed to revolve around either money or utter bemusement at the pair. Eventually, he called, 'Are you two particularly familiar with Hagrid, then?'

'We've been friends since first year,' responded Harry. 'He's a really great guy. I think his size puts people off.'

Professor Slughorn let out a wary noise.

They climbed to the crest of the hill that looked down on the rolling grounds the castle. Even from such a distance, Hagrid's hut was visible, the little yellow lights within shone through the growing darkness and pierced the shadows that slithered from the Forbidden Forest behind. A tiny light flickered closer to them and in the reds and yellows of the setting Sun, the hunched form of Hagrid was clearly visible beside a giant mound of earth.

When they drew closer, he looked up. A spade was held in his hands and sweat dripped into his bushy brows.

'I thought yer might not come,' he said, setting the spade aside.

'Of course, we would, Hagrid,' said Harry. 'Professor Slughorn spotted us on the way, though.'

'Yer not in trouble, are ye?' asked Hagrid fretfully.

'No, no,' cut in Professor Slughorn. Hagrid spun towards him. 'I understand why they are here, I just wanted to make sure they got here and back okay, given the circumstances.'

Although Hagrid's beady eyes had sprung open, his shoulders quickly sloped again as the surge of panic fled as quickly as it had arrived. He cast the other man a small smile and collected his spade from where it was stuck in the soft, spring ground.

'Aragog would have been touched yer came,' he said shakily.

Cassy doubted that. Acromantulas were very unsociable creatures.

Harry patted his elbow repeatedly in a way that strongly resembled Professor Trelawney. 'Where are we burying him?'

There was no body in sight, even in the faint light that spilt from the rapidly setting Sun it should have been unmissable.

'Here,' said Hagrid, pointing at the deep hole he had begun to create. 'I can't go back in there now, the other spiders no longer let me, says they were only being friendly on Aragog's orders. They said they'd eat me if they saw me again. Can yer believe that?'

Cassy tilted her head. 'Hagrid, I do not mean to sound insensitive, but how did you manage to get the body out? I thought they ate their dead.'

'It wasn't easy,' he said vaguely as fresh tears welled in his eyes.

'If I may ask, where is the poor creature?' queried Professor Slughorn carefully.

'Jus' behind me hut,' he said, gesturing with the spade. 'I have a little bit more ter dig. It's taken me a bit longer than I expected. I never realised the size of him until now.'

Cassy, Harry, and Professor Slughorn shared a careful look with one another. As Hagrid's shovel clanked as it hit the earth, again and again, the three gingerly stepped around the side of his home. Over the pumpkin patch and past the chicken coops lay a large mound the size of the Beauxbaton's golden carriage. Thick legs were curled beneath a bulbous body; a dozen milky-white eyes stared unseeingly ahead.

'Good God,' muttered Harry.

'Why, Hagrid,' gasped Professor Slughorn, 'he's magnificent!'

Hagrid halted and clambered out of the hole. 'I didn't know you were interested in creatures like Aragog, Horace.'

'I revere them,' said Professor Slughorn, slowly pacing around the body.

Cassy brushed her hand along the rigid spines on one of the spider's legs. She turned to Hagrid. 'How big was he?'

'He had about an eighteen-feet leg span, I reckoned,' said Hagrid, tearfully.

A gentle clank sounded and Cassy tore her eyes from Hagrid and over to Professor Slughorn. He stepped back from the creature's head, his hand inside his jacket. Something clinked again.

'He's truly something to behold,' praised Professor Slughorn and tears began to leak from the crumpled corners of Hagrid's eyes. 'Should we proceed?'

Hagrid nodded and Professor Slughorn raised the remains with a flick of his wand. He floated it to the large hole, setting Aragog gently within it. Hagrid began to weep heavily. He had made to pick Aragog up himself, but Cassy had held his forearm to halt him. Even Hagrid was not strong enough to lift the creature in his current state and she certainly did not think it would do him well to roll his friend into a pit and break the delicate remains. On his other side, Harry began to pat his elbow once more, his face not quite able to appear entirely sympathetic, but Hagrid was fortunately too blinded by tears to see it.

'It is hard to lose a friend,' said Professor Slughorn, sympathetic. 'Would you like me to say a few words?'

A loud sob ripped through the still night air. The sun was so low on the horizon that the sky was barely holding shades of purple any longer. The stars above were beginning to shine and the moon was now peaking brightly from between the wispy, white clouds.

Professor Slughorn cleared his throat and removed his hat. He placed it carefully over his heart. Loudly and somewhat dramatically, he said: 'Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids, whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won't forget. Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your Forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained.'

Despite his kind words, a smirk had edged its way onto his face.

Pure-Bloods put a lot of emphasis on respect for the dead. Great tombs and towering statues were often erected for those with money and those without would lay wreaths at the graves of their loved ones with special care. It was a show of how well received a person was in life, at least, that was what had been said. Yet, before them was a creature. By all legal means, Aragog was beneath Witches and Wizards. His burial was menial, no more important than that of a family pet, despite his sentience. Had he not meant so much to Hagrid, had he just been found dead on the grounds, Cassy knew she would have done what Professor Slughorn had done and collected a sample of his venom. He would agree had she asked, she knew. However, she respected Hagrid too much to do so.

It should have tainted Professor Slughorn's eulogy, but for all of her care for Hagrid, Cassy found it difficult to muster the interest in being annoyed by his actions. It was, after all, a giant spider known for eating humans. Moreover, it was very dead.

'That was beautiful!' wailed Hagrid, now loudly sobbing.

Professor Slughorn waved his wand again and the massive heap of earth tumbled into the hole.

'Drinks,' said Hagrid, croakily. 'Will ye all come in for drinks? I don't want...'

Sensing his desire to be around people, Cassy and Harry nodded. Professor Slughorn's eyes lit up at the offer of alcohol.

'All tested, are they?' he asked as he followed Hagrid into his home. 'For poison?'

'Ain't never been poisoned myself,' said Hagrid as he dropped heavily into his huge armchair, 'but I made a point of using one of those kits ye can buy, y'know, from that shop in Hogsmeade. Nasty business all that was. Are ye sure you're alright to drink now?'

'Yes, yes,' said Professor Slughorn flippantly. 'If it's been tested then what's the worry. It's nice to have a drink with your colleagues, especially on such a dark day!'

Hagrid smiled, seemingly touched by the words so thinly veiled against a tone of personal gain.

Directed to the large cabinet near the bed, Harry swung open the doors to reveal rows upon rows of glass bottles; golds, greens, reds, and ambers, Hagrid had an array of drinks stored and in no small sizes either.

'Goodness me,' cried Professor Slughorn, grinning. 'That puts even my collection to shame!'

Hagrid shrugged. 'I like a drink in the evening and I've been around long enough to know what's good.'

'You could turn this hut into a tavern,' continued the professor. He pulled three bottles from the shelves with great deliberation. He set one in front of Hagrid before summoning three mugs the size of teapots from the counter. Red liquid flowed freely from the bottles. One was emptied easily between two mugs. Less than a third of the liquid was left of the final third bottle when the mugs were passed to Cassy and Harry, who had seated themselves opposite the two older men. Professor Slughorn gripped his own mug readily.

For the first time, he peered around the room.

'Is that a unicorn hair?' he gasped.

Hagrid dismissed his amazement. He found them frequently stuck in the lower branches of bushes and in the undergrowth during his many excursions. The fact that they were worth ten Galleon a strand did not even create a flicker of interest on his face. He used them to tie bandages for wounded animals, they were stronger than normal materials.

It was as though, for the first time, the Potions professor realised that Hagrid had an abnormal sense of excitement. What was rare, the things most wizards wished to find, were mundane to him. He wished for dragons and three-headed dogs. Professor Slughorn began to eye every shelf and every corner with unrestrained interest, his keen eyes searching for more unwitting treasures.

Cassy glanced to Harry. He was smiling, as he had been for the last hour, and had not touched his drink. She had sniffed her own and promptly decided against ingesting it. The pungent scent of the alcohol was stinging, so strong she was not certain Professor Slughorn would last more than another hour before he had to have his stomach pumped by Madam Pomfrey.

Harry slipped his wand from his pocket. His lips did not move, his smile only grew. When Cassy curiously turned back to her teachers, she noticed their drinks were sloshing messily across the table once more. He had wordlessly refilled them. Even Hagrid's bottle had flooded with liquid.

There was no greater flattery to Hagrid than taking an interest in his creatures. Professor Slughorn, for all his faults, was a genuinely inquisitive man and took no small wonder in the various pets Hagrid had kept and the ones he still raised in the forest. He spoke avidly of his own adventures as a young man, the creatures he met on his journey through Asia once he had graduated Hogwarts, and his eventual return to the school in the early 1920s. Hagrid glazed over his own expulsion, but he spoke avidly of Aragog and how good to him Professor Dumbledore had been through his long life. They traded stories of students they had seen come and go and toasted the people who had done them proud.

Almost an hour wore on and Cassy was beginning to wonder if the Felix Felicis worked anymore or it had faded long ago; the sight in front of her had long since stopped being amusing. The two men bumbling through vaguely coherent sentences and proposing toasts to everyone had become sadder than anything else. It was embarrassing.

'To Harry Potter!' shouted Hagrid, his drink held high in the air. He had drank about a shelf and a half of his largest bottles of alcohol.

'To Parry Otter!' repeated Professor Slughorn. 'The-Boy-Who-Lived, or something like that.'

He sloshed his drink down his arm.

As Professor Slughorn began to hum a familiar tune, Hagrid's shoulders slumped. The last dregs of his drink were gone now and for once, Harry did not bother to refill his cup. For a while, Hagrid did or said nothing. The tune of the nursery rhyme Professor Slughorn sang was all that accompanied the crackling fire. Fat tears began to well in Hagrid's eyes.

'The boy who lived, ay?' repeated Hagrid softly. 'Your parents were no age ter go, Harry.'

Harry said nothing. For the first time than night, no stupid grin adorned his face.

'Terrible,' continued Hagrid. He leant back in his seat and rubbed his eyes.

'Sorry,' said Professor Slughorn. 'I never could carry a tune.'

'Not you,' said Cassy, frowning in exasperation.

'He was referring to my parents,' said Harry, his voice steady and quiet. 'To how they died.'

'Oh, oh yes, quite terrible,' said Professor Slughorn, suddenly looking at a loss despite his hazy eyes.

Harry stared into the fire as Hagrid's snores broke through the awkward silence. Professor Slughorn pulled everyone's cups towards him and uncorked another bottle of brandy.

'Did you know my dad died first, Professor? That Voldemort murdered him first because he was trying to give my mum and me time to escape?'

Harry's words were cutting. Deep blue-eyes shifted to analyse his features in a sideways stare; his jaw was set.

'Mum could have stepped aside. Voldemort offered to let her live, but she had already lost my dad so she pleaded with him to spare me. He just laughed,' he continued.

'Enough,' cried Professor Slughorn. His hands were raised, as though they could block out the unwanted truth.

Harry turned to look at him. 'Oh, you liked her, didn't you?'

Professor Slughorn inhaled shakily. His gooseberry eyes brimmed with tears. 'Who wouldn't have? She was clever, brave, and so very funny.'

'Yet, you won't help her son to defeat the man who killed her,' said Harry, his voice a fraction stronger, a fraction sterner. 'You won't give me the memory.'

'There is nothing that it can do to help,' said Professor Slughorn. He turned his head away. As Harry found strength, the man was beginning to crumble.

'I need the information from that memory,' he said as he leant forwards across the table. 'The papers are right, you know. I am the Chosen One.'

Cassy's eyes widened. She stared at Harry in mild horror.

'Only I can defeat Voldemort,' he said.

'You are?'

'Of course.'

'My dear boy, you're asking me to aid you in - '

'I know you're afraid Voldemort will find out you've helped me, Sir, but please be brave. Be brave like my mother.' Harry stared at the older man intensely, his bottle green eyes flickered and flared in the light of the low burning fire.

Professor Slughorn's lips drew together thinly as though suppressing a sob. 'Please, don't think badly of me. I had no idea what such information would do. I fear I did a great deal of damage that day.'

Cassy watched as more tears slipped down Professor Slughorn's fat cheeks. A long silence stretched between them. If Harry's senses were telling him not to break it, then she dared not either. Finally, Professor Slughorn lifted his wand to his temple and slowly withdrew it, pulling a long, flowing silver thread with it. It broke from his skull and hung in the air from the tip of his wand like a lazy, cloudy worm. With his other hand, he uncorked a phial and lowered it inside before he corked it again. For a few seconds, he stared at the memory.

'Thank-you, Professor,' said Harry when it was rolled towards him. 'You are a good man.'

'You're a good lad,' he said in return, before he slumped down to put his head in his hands. After a few seconds, he too was asleep.

* * *

 **Sorry! You know I'm not one to normally leave it so long, but the last few months have been really hectic for me. I should be back on track now though and I promise not to wait so long until my next update.**

 **I considered having Ginny and Dean stay in a relationship, but then I don't think they'd work long-term anyway. Dean's too nice and Ginny's to independent. Pairing Ginny with anyone is difficult, I find. I don't like her with Harry in canon because I just don't get to see their relationship develop or enough evidence of their bond for my tastes, but who else would there have been if not him? Hmm...**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Thanks!**


	24. A shake up

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XXIV: A shake up**

By the time Cassy and Harry had reached the common room in the early hours of Saturday morning, it was apparent that the Felix Felicis had worn off. They stood in the dark corridor, only the light of a distant window creating long squares on the stone tiles gave them an indication of their whereabouts. Heavily, they breathed. Their breathless chatter had been hushed as they hurried from Hagrid's hut to the castle, uncertain of their remaining time. They had no trouble as they laughed and eagerly discussed the night, but when they halted outside of the portrait of the Fat Lady she turned to them with scorn.

'The password changed at midnight,' she said flatly. She averted her eyes back to Sir Nicholas, who she had been conversing with before they had arrived.

'But we can't stay out here,' protested Harry, but the Fat Lady whipped open her fan and lazily waved it.

'If you have a problem, take it up with the Headmaster,' she jeered. 'The password changed at midnight and that's all there is to it.'

Harry frowned. 'I would if he were around. He's the reason we're out so late anyway.'

'He got back not long ago,' interjected Sir Nicholas. 'I heard the Bloody Baron saying he saw him come back. He seemed to be in a good mood.'

Harry perked up. 'Where is he? In his office?'

'Yes, I believe – where are you going?' called Sir Nicholas.

Harry dashed down the corridor without waiting for a single word more. The cloak was still in Cassy's arms and they had only just avoided detection by Peeves minutes before. She would be surprised if he made it all the way to the Headmaster's office before shrieks of "Student out of bed!" rang through the halls and Filch lumbered through the passages with a lantern and stick to wave threateningly. He did not even shout a quick goodbye, but Cassy still smiled. It had been a strange evening, but it was a refreshing sort of oddness against all of the pressures they had had so far.

'Wait!' cried the Fat Lady as Harry vanished around the stone corner. 'The password hasn't changed. I was just cross!'

Harry did not reappear and Cassy smiled up at her with an unappreciated, joyful smile. 'Tapeworm.'

Grumbling, the Fat Lady moved aside and Cassy stepped through the threshold. She was assaulted by warmth as she bid goodnight to Sir Nicholas, the fire was roaring brightly and the lamps still burnt high on the walls. Immediately, she spotted the cause for the light. By the fire sat Neville and Hermione. Neville's head was resting on one of his palms, his cheek squashed and his eyes closed. Hermione turned.

'How did it go?' she exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

Neville jolted and with panicked eyes, shot his head towards them. A hand covered his heart and he sunk back into the seat.

'It went well, actually. Harry has gone to speak to the Headmaster,' responded Cassy whilst claiming the chair nearest to the fire. For as bright as the changing seasons had made the days, it had not yet made them much warmer.

'He got it then?' asked Hermione excitedly.

Cassy nodded and Hermione breathed a great sigh of relief.

'Excellent,' she said. She collected her textbook from where it had fallen from her lap and onto the floor. Tucking it under one arm, she looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. 'Now that's settled, I'm off to bed. I have a mountain of homework to do.'

Neville rubbed his eyes and stretched. Crookshanks, who had taken up residence on his lap, stared up with narrowed yellow eyes, unhappy with being disturbed.

'You did not have to stay awake, you know. Go to bed,' said Cassy as Neville yawned again.

'I'm not that tired anymore,' he protested. 'I'm just stiff from sleeping upright.'

Cassy smiled and looked at him doubtfully.

'What happened then? How did he get the memory?' he asked.

Cassy began a lengthy explanation. From the moment they walked through the open front doors until they left Hagrid and Professor Slughorn snoozing in the hut, she told him everything. He laughed at the unnecessary toasts and winced at the guilt Harry had used to coerce Professor Slughorn's agreement. When Cassy explained how awkward it was to watch two grown men bumble drunkenly and crying in a mess of happiness and sadness, Neville let out a short chuckle. He turned the hot chocolate Plum had given him in his hands thoughtfully.

Cassy watched the steam billow from her own mug. Her eyes connected with Neville's brown ones for a second before he looked down again. She held her stare and he peered up again, flushing pink as he looked down once more. Her eyes became half-lidded and her voice flat.

'Out with it then,' she said.

'What?' Neville jumped, sloshing the scalding drink dangerously in the mug.

'You clearly have something on your mind. You were hoping to find something out from my retelling and have not, so just ask me, Neville,' she said bluntly.

Neville flushed a little brighter. 'It still weirds me out how you can tell what I think from looking at me.' He averted his eyes back down to the dark liquid in his cup. 'I've been thinking – well for a while, really, but I know you don't like people being invasive and I'm not sure you'd appreciate me saying anything, so I haven't - '

'Neville,' she cut in.

'Sorry,' he sighed and set the mug down on the table in front. 'Are you and Harry alright?'

Cassy held a level stare, her eyes critical. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, you two haven't been spending that much time together lately and I've noticed how irritated you've been getting with one another. It's like... you have good days and then bad ones. I've just never known you two to have bad ones,' he said.

The fact that Neville was able to hold her increasingly tense stare meant he was serious.

Carefully, Cassy considered her next words. 'We are fine, at least, I think so. It is just that sometimes, I think we expect different things.'

'Like what?' asked Neville, frowning.

Cassy hesitated again. 'Our approaches to things are different. It has become increasingly apparent and sometimes... I think Harry fails to understand why I do not think like he does.'

Neville nodded slowly. 'Harry is great and he's a fantastic friend, but he can be narrow-minded.'

Cassy blinked in surprise.

'I do notice things!' protested Neville and Cassy gave a short laugh.

'No, no. I was merely surprised to hear you say it. Usually, I'm the one to call him that.'

Harry always brushed it off when she did, whether she was joking or not.

Neville shrugged and picked up his drink again. It seemed that because Cassy had not exploded into a dark, fiery rage at having her personal life questioned, he deemed it safe to relax again. He crossed his legs under him and snuggled down into the sofa.

'I don't care where someone is from. I suppose at one point I did, but when I came to Hogwarts, my Gran was still the scariest person I had ever met – remember my Boggart in third-year? When I look at the Slytherins I see a lot of traits you have, but the difference is that I know you well enough to know the difference between a threat and a joke and I know you would never do anything to hurt me,' he said easily.

'We had different opportunities,' she said simply.

'And that's why you feel responsible for them, isn't it? Because it could have been you trapped and unable to act,' he finished.

Cassy's eyes softened. 'You complain I see straight through you and yet you read me with no problem.'

'I wouldn't say there were no problems!' he laughed. 'It's taken me the better part of six months to get to that conclusion.' He sobered. 'Have you explained that to Harry? Is that why you two bicker more?'

The smile slipped from her own lips too. 'No.'

'Why?' he asked with a frown.

Silently, Cassy looked towards the fire. It flickered and twisted, creating bold shadows that swayed and lasted for seconds as the flames engulfed a new bit of the log within the grate. In the dim, orange glow, she could clearly see the scolding eyes of her boyfriend. Harry would not understand and she could not ask him to, could she? He had no family, not anyone he really valued growing up. He had no one he had to leave behind. He was not a child of two worlds as she was, divided between what she believed and what she knew to be home. She valued her upbringing; she loved her education, the traditions and the etiquette. She loved to dress nicely and she loved to make a bold, favourable first impression as all nobles did.

Yet, she did not want them to rule. She did not want Muggles and Muggle-borns to die so she could continue as she pleased. She did not want to follow that path her ancestors had taken.

She did not want to leave others who felt as she did behind to save herself.

'Harry has never been inclined to learn of my heritage,' she said after a moment of contemplation. 'I gave up on teaching him years ago. I cannot expect him to understand my position.'

'Of course, you can,' said Neville, his frown deepening into an almost-scowl. 'He's your boyfriend, Cassy. If anyone is supposed to get it and support you, it should be him.'

Cassy pursed her lips.

Neville's face eased and instead he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 'This is another one of your "do it alone and sort it out myself" sort of moments, isn't it? You don't think you should have any support or you've failed.'

'No,' disagreed Cassy shortly. She rolled her eyes. 'I simply worry that if I explain it then he will ask me to choose.'

This time, it was Neville that hesitated. 'You think he will?'

Cassy could tell by his tone the thought had never occurred to him, but in the short time it had to whirl through his brain, it had arisen as a plausible possibility.

'I'm unsure,' she admitted, ' however, given how obsessed he has become with my cousin and his fixation with the Half-Blood Prince, I don't believe now is a good time to mention anything. I think I should let this year pass and hope he gets whatever he is going through out of his system before I contemplate that conversation.'

Neville bit his lip.

'Otherwise, we are fine,' she said confidently.

Before Neville could respond – another question, she was sure – the portrait hole swung open. In stumbled the very object of their discussion. Harry's hair was even more tousled than it had been when he had sprinted away down the dark corridor. He peered around the room and hurried towards them. His cheerful expression was gone and a stern tenseness had overtaken his face. He dropped into the seat beside Neville.

'Are you alright?' asked Neville.

'Has Hermione gone to bed already?' questioned Harry.

Cassy glanced at the clock. 'About an hour-and-a-half ago.'

He emitted a short hum and peered around the common room once again. With a flick of his wand and a mutter beneath his breath, the room obscured, as though looking through water. An instant later, the room was back to normal. Content that his silencing charm worked, he leant forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

'Horcruxes,' he said, 'they're parts of someone's soul.'

Cassy and Neville stared.

Harry continued quickly, 'Dumbledore had a theory from the fake memory Slughorn gave him that he had them, that's how he was already able to return, but in the new memory he mentions splitting his soul into seven.'

'Seven?' repeated Cassy sharply. 'That's incredibly unstable. Magic relies on a whole, healthy soul.'

Tonks proved as much in her misery over Remus. She had been unable to control her abilities, to practice magic to the degree of mastery she normally could. Accidental magic was caused by not only lack of control, but by emotions, strong ones that disrupted the harmony of the spirit. To have less than a whole soul was something Cassy could hardly contemplate.

'He would do that just to live longer?' gasped Neville. 'I know seven is the most magical number, but - '

'That is a myth,' said Cassy, frowning at the coffee table. 'Just as the most magic number being three or seventeen are. Harry, are you saying there are six parts to Voldemort still existing somewhere?'

Harry shrugged. 'Dumbledore thinks there might not be a seventh one. He says he reckons he wanted to use my murder to split the last of his soul.'

Neville blanched. Cassy's fists tightened in her lap.

'Is that how they are split? Through murder?' she questioned and Harry nodded.

'We've already destroyed two of them,' he said confidently. 'The diary and the ring Dumbledore's wearing, Voldemort's grandfather's ring.

'And the others?' asked Cassy; her chin rested on her palm thoughtfully.

'Hufflepuff's Cup, something of either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor's, the locket, and his snake,' listed Harry. 'Dumbledore reckons he would only use things of value, so that's what he's come up with.'

Cassy put her head in her hands. Their ridiculous task had just escalated to new heights. It seemed almost impossible already that Harry should defeat the greatest Dark wizard of all time, let alone when he had another four portions of his soul waiting to be called upon if his current body was once again destroyed. They had to find them, but the issue was where to begin. If he only used precious objects then they would not be at the bottom of the ocean or at the peak of a mountain; they would be somewhere safe, somewhere he could check on them, assuming, of course, the master body did not feel the destruction of his soul parts. Then again, that seemed unlikely. He surely would have already made a move of sorts if he had felt the Headmaster terminate his ring Horcrux.

'To split your soul...' muttered Neville.

It was truly dark magic and yet, there were only four people to know besides Albus Dumbledore himself. Cassy, Harry, Neville, and Hermione were the only ones granted such knowledge and Cassy wanted to know why.

* * *

With the weight of the task unloaded from everyone's minds, the atmosphere around the castle, not only the group, seemed to ease tremendously. Professor Slughorn only seemed to have a vague inkling of the events that transpired that night. He seemed somewhat flustered around the sixth-years, embarrassed almost, as though he had expected Cassy and Harry to share wild tales of his drunken state with the others. He said nothing of the memory and his next dinner party found them still on the guests' list, much to Harry's displeasure.

It was only the day after the memory was obtained that Hogwarts saw the return of Katie Bell. Though she had missed much during her time in St. Mungo's she eagerly jumped back into school life and accepted Harry's hasty offering to have her back on his Quidditch team. Although Dean was unhappy at being removed so late in the season, the team seemed to be in excellent shape. Harry was keen to work on teamwork and nearly every available Saturday and even the spare evenings saw the players dressed in scarlet and gold and descending to the pitch whatever weather April brought.

Katie could not recall anything about being cursed. When questioned, she said her memories ended after she pushed the ladies toilet door open; Hermione suspected the attacker was female, but Cassy was not so certain. Katie's friend had not recalled anyone leaving the toilets, so it very well could have been anyone hidden in there, disguised or otherwise. To make matters more complicated, Cassy had seen that necklace before; its shining opals were difficult to forget. For as much as she wanted to ignore the possibility that her cousin had something to do with it, it seemed likely he could have, given everything he had done so far that year. If the necklace had been intended for the Headmaster, as the alcohol had been, she was almost certain it had something to do with Malfoy.

Harry agreed. His fixation shifted once again to Malfoy when the pressure of obtaining the memory no longer loomed above him. For a moment, Cassy dared to think he would let things lie now that he had accepted his inability to access the Room of Requirement. He was quietly waiting for more information, but the peace only lasted for a week at best. The end of April shattered the harmony between the friends that had finally settled when Plum popped into sight late one evening.

'Mistress!' she chirped, bowing lowly at Cassy. 'And, Mistress' friends, of course.'

'Plum,' greeted Cassy. Her eyebrows raised, unaccustomed to Plum appearing without invitation within the castle walls. 'What can I do for you?'

'Nothing, Mistress!' cried Plum, looking panicked. 'Plum needs nothing from Mistress, she gives Plum everything and more than Plum could ever ask for.'

Cassy waved her hand flippantly and the tiny elf settled down almost immediately.

'Sorry,' said Plum softly, bowing again. 'Sometimes Plum forgets Mistress doesn't care for such things.'

Everyone could tell Plum's theatrics had been the cause of many discussions in the past.

'However, Plum really doesn't want anything. Mistress asked me to trail Draco Malfoy and I have been for some time now. It is in the last month that Plum noticed he has been spending a lot of time in the girls' toilets, crying.'

'It is him,' murmured Hermione. 'Myrtle was not making the boy up.'

'Wait, what?' asked Neville, frowning.

'Myrtle told us a week ago about a boy who had been visiting her in the toilets,' explained Ginny. 'I never thought it'd be Malfoy though.'

Cassy flicked her eyes back to Plum thoughtfully. 'Tell me what you saw.'

'I heard it, mostly, hiding behind a stall when he went inside. He was telling her about how lonely he felt at first and they spoke about it. It wasn't anything evil... just sad,' recalled Plum. 'Then, yesterday he mentioned about running out of time and how he was afraid of going home in the summer. When Miss Warren asked him - '

'Wait,' interrupted Harry, 'who's Warren?'

Plum blinked her large eyes at him. 'Miss Myrtle Warren?'

'Myrtle Warren? That's her name?' said Harry.

'Surely you should know that, Harry, considering how much she fancies you,' said Hermione snidely.

Cassy smirked. 'I do believe you two shared a moment in the bath together. You should really have learnt her name first.'

Despite the grimace on his face, everyone burst into giggles. Cassy turned back to Plum in a silent urge for her to continue.

It was only when Plum was certain she was not interrupting anyone's laughter that she spoke again. 'When Miss Warren asked him why he was afraid, he said he had a task to do and there would be terrible consequences if he did not complete it. He said two of his plans had failed already.'

Cassy closed her eyes. Without having to peer around, she could hear the loud thoughts that radiated from her four friends that surrounded her. They all knew of two terrible incidents, two terrible incidences where the target had not been reached.

'Did he say anything else?' asked Harry quickly, but Plum shook her head.

'Thank-you, Plum,' said Cassy. The tiny House-Elf bowed and popped out of sight.

It marked the end of the days where Harry had almost forgotten to watch Malfoy's every move. He did not follow him as he had before, a small mercy, and instead watched the Marauder's Map carefully for any sign of him meeting with Myrtle. He wanted to catch them talking together, to hear it with his own ears so he could put a stop to it once and for all.

Cassy ignored it. She had long since established what her wayward cousin was doing and maintained her stance to have little to do with it upon Professor Dumbledore's orders. She turned her attention back to her classes and more specifically to Zabini and Daphne, who she had been making small steps with since September. Her time spent as Astoria had been an enlightening one, not only to why Daphne hated her so, but concerning Daphne's true personality. It was a shame she could not have found Zabini's whilst she was there, however, she had to admit that the little bit of guesswork she had done based on Daphne's own personality seemed to be working for her.

They were not friends, but they spoke in ways more familiar than anyone would have expected. There was far less careful treading in the days that followed Katie Bell's return. Clever sarcasm continued to make Zabini smile to himself - as small as they were, she was sure they were indeed smiles. Daphne had gone four Alchemy lessons without sneering at Cassy when the tiny class of five were thrown together into a group project due in June as part of their final assessment. Progress was progress, though. If only she could get a chance to meet with the allusive Shandy and find where she stood with him.

She had seen him loitering in the corridors with Stephen. Their relationship was back to as it had been before Cassy had even known them; laughter and growls, both amused and furious with one another at most times, though it was more often Stephen that glowered at Shandy's joyous eyes. Shandy spoke to her on the occasions they did see one another. Then again, he always had done. It was the chance to speak to him seriously that had not arisen and no matter how Cassy approached it, he evaded it with such skill that it sometimes took her a few seconds to realise he was attempting to derail her. She did not push it.

It was mid-May when the rain poured unrelentingly for almost two whole days. Quidditch practice was cancelled for the afternoon; Hermione had rushed away in despair to check an Arithmancy mistake she may or may not have made, Neville and Luna were left to their miscommunication, while Ginny went to sort through the late Easter Eggs with Ron that had got lost in the post from their mother. That left Cassy and Harry alone for the first time in what seemed like a long time. Excluding the excursion to Hagrid's, they had not found time to sit as they used to and Cassy blamed herself for much of it. She knew she made it difficult with her erratic and often changing schedule, though she intended to slow it down as exams crept upon them. If she did not have a book in her hand, it was a quill; she was forever writing letters or studying the newspapers, with the exception of when she was doing school work.

Yes, she supposed as she walked beside Harry down one of the deserted corridors, she supposed she was to blame for much of that. Although, a creeping thought insisted Harry hardly made it more bearable with his constant sneaking and suspicions, not to mention that accursed book of his he read every night without fail.

She pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on what he was saying.

'They'd have weird children,' said Harry. His eyes drifted over the Marauder's Map, because despite their best efforts to remain uninvolved, Cassy and Harry could not help but be fascinated by the strange, awkward relationship their two friends were trying and failing to have. Ginny was their main advocate and even Hermione had tried to give Neville advice.

'Short, blonde children,' agreed Cassy, 'with a love of flowers and vacant expressions.'

'It would wear no shoes and carry a poisonous plant it would swear was some sort of vampire from Madagascar,' added Harry.

'Soft-hearted,' continued Cassy.

'Awful at sports.'

She smiled.

Suddenly, Harry halted. He stared down at the map, his eyes drawn from the point where Neville and Luna had been stationed for some time. He grabbed her arm excitedly.

'Cassy, look,' he exclaimed and thrust the parchment into her face.

Cassy batted it away and searched the paper. Impatiently, Harry jabbed his finger to a spot not far from their own. Tiny words made the walls of a familiar girls' toilet. Inside it was the ever-present Myrtle and beside her, evoking a complete lack of surprise from Cassy, was another pair of red-ink shoes. The little label read exactly the name she was expecting to see in such circumstances.

Despite herself, she was curious. She had tried to dissuade Harry from pursuing the meetings in the last few days, but with Malfoy and Moaning Myrtle so close even she could not deny that she wanted to know what they spoke about. She wanted to hear him cry, she wanted to know it was real and she wanted to know he regretted what he had agreed to do. It was as though some deeply buried part of her needed to know he was capable of comprehending the consequences, whether he succeeded or failed. It would prove nothing. He had chosen his side and she would welcome him back, but one instance would not change where they stood. She just wanted to know.

Her feet followed Harry's hurried footsteps. There was no sound from within. The door, old and heavy, was far too dense and well-fitted to allow any noise to escape. Harry stuffed the Marauder's Map into the pocket of his dark jeans and gently pushed the door open. Cassy leant forward to listen as Harry stuck his head through the gap.

There was a loud, wet sniff and Myrtle cooed softly.

'Don't cry,' she sang in a tone of thinly veiled glee.

'He'll kill me,' sobbed Malfoy. His voice was thick with emotions and for a split second, Cassy froze. It had been years since she had heard such honesty in his voice, such fear. 'If I can't do it, he will kill me.'

She listened impassively. Of course, Voldemort would kill him. What had he expected?

'Tell me what's wrong,' crooned Myrtle. 'I can help you.'

Cassy glanced at Harry. His face was partially hidden by the door, but from what she could see his face was frozen in shock. His body did not move and his eyes did not glint with any sort of malicious triumph after years and years of rivalry with the other.

'If I can't - '

A hand pressed roughly on Cassy's shoulder. She clattered to the floor with a hard bang. A pop whirled overhead. Her elbows were surely bruised by the cold stone, but she did not have time to think about that. A loud shout echoed down the hall. Harry vanished inside. Even the heavy door could not stop the shouts from within now. Quickly, Cassy climbed to her feet and threw open the door, her wand drawn.

Harry and Malfoy were on opposite sides of the circular set of sinks, merely inches from the opening to the Chamber of Secrets. They ran and dives, each jerking and pulling in erratic directions to shake the other off guard. It did not work. A burst water pipe showered the wall and floor, making their movements precarious, noisy, and even more frantic. Lights shot from their wands, sharp calls of spells scarcely drowned by Moaning Myrtle's screeches for them to stop.

A failed Levicorpus from Harry was met with the exploding of a grand mirror behind him, Malfoy's return more vicious than his own attacks. He raised his wand as Harry slipped in the spreading water.

'Cruci-'

'Stop!'

Cassy's voice roared above all other noise. Instantly, Malfoy's words fell short, his tongue halted unexpectedly. He turned to her, his eyes wide, his face pale, and his wand slowly lowering. Their eyes met. Tear streaks shone in the faint light that filtered in through the arched windows. His skin was scrubbed red where he had tried so hard to hide them. It lasted only a single second.

'Sectumsempra!'

Blood splurted from Malfoy's face. His pale eyes widened only an instant before streams of red blossomed through his blue shirt, the material stained black and glistened in the light. He staggered backwards and Cassy was already running towards him. Her hand reached out to catch him, although she knew she would not reach him before he collapsed to the ground. Her knees hit the floor, her wand still in her hand and her other hovering, uncertain of where to touch.

'No,' she heard Harry breath behind her. 'No...'

Shaking free from her shock with speed only urgency allowed, she tapped the other's face, urging any sort of response from his still form.

'Draco,' she barked, slapping him harder.

Bleary, his grey-eyes opened. He stared at her for a moment and she was not sure if he could truly see her or not.

'Murder!' cried Myrtle suddenly. 'Murder in the bathroom!'

'No,' said Harry, louder this time. 'I never meant... I didn't know!'

Cassy ignored him. Her focus remained on her cousin. His white hands pulled at his shirt in a hazy panic, coating them in thick, scarlet blood. Her wand prodded at the largest wound, at least, what she assumed to be it. It was difficult to tell as his shirt began to soak up the water beneath him. She muttered to herself as she pulled at his clothing, revealing the deep, gaping slash from his hip to his ribs.

'Draco,' she said firmly, 'Draco, it's Cassy.'

In the circumstances, she realised it was probably one of the least comforting things she could say. He continued to stare up at her.

'You are going to be okay, Draco,' she continued. Quickly, she turned to Harry. 'Get a teacher.'

He stared blankly at Malfoy.

' _Harry_!'

Before she could utter another order, the bathroom door slammed open. Myrtle's wailing had attracted attention after all, though Cassy would have preferred anyone else. Cloak billowing, Professor Snape stood in the doorway. His sharp, black-eyes honed in immediately on the body on the ground. Roughly, he shoved Harry to the side and dropped down on the opposite side to Cassy. She had only managed to utter two spells to stem the blood flow before he had arrived. Her hand was still pressed firmly against his abdomen. With more care than expected, Professor Snape lifted her hand and inspected the wound himself.

In low mutterings, the words like a song, Professor Snape began to run his wand over each of Malfoy's deep lesions. The blood flow seemed to stem and Cassy wiped the weeping blood from the line across his cheek with her sleeve. He turned to her again, his eyes having briefly been preoccupied with the sudden appearance of Professor Snape. It was only when the mutterings ended for the third time that Professor Snape saw fit to push her away as well.

She stood as Malfoy's arm was hoisted over Professor Snape's shoulder. Soft reassurances that the scarring might only be minimal if he is treated with dittany soon followed the pair as they headed to the door. Just as he reached the door, he turned.

'Stay put,' he said, eyeing them both lividly.

Cassy did not move at all, not even when the door swung shut. She forced her mind to slow. Rationality took over the moment her knees hit the ground, but that did not mean she did not want to scream and lash out at the only other living occupant of the room. She still wanted to demand to know what he had been thinking, to know why he had used a spell he had not known the consequences for on another student, one who had been mortified to have been found crying. Yet, she merely breathed in deeply.

She had done the same thing last year. She had used a spell to harm another in nothing more than a fit of rage. Her incident was both better and worse; better because the hit did not land, worse because she had known exactly what the spell would do. Harry had been ignorant. He trusted the Half-Blood Prince too much to know the consequences.

She breathed out. It was an accident.

Harry said nothing as time wore on. Moaning Myrtle vacated, her sobs still echoed through the pipes on occasion, but Cassy had a suspicion she was doing it on purpose. The longer the silence stretched between them, the less Cassy wanted to discuss it. She no longer wanted to express she knew he had not meant it and that he would never have done it had he known. The silence suffocated those sentiments. She merely wanted to leave now.

Almost ten minutes later, Professor Snape returned. Perhaps distress had coloured her pale features for an instant, or it could have her efforts to heal him, or, even more unlikely, Malfoy himself could have spared her from the guilt, but whatever Professor Snape's reason, he sent her to the common room with no detention and no further questions. He kept Harry behind, but what punishment he received, Cassy did not know that night for she never made it back to the common room while the lights were still lit and the students awake. The only thing she was sure of was that Harry would not possibly be expelled, though, under any other circumstances he most certainly would have been.

It felt bitterly wrong that the only reason she was upset about the whole incident was because of the victim. Had it been anyone else, she would be shocked, but she would be in the common room awaiting his return with a reassuring nod and shorts words of stern wisdom. Instead, she wandered the corridors aimlessly as the sun set lowly in the sky. It was not a war right then, it was not an understandable attack. Yet, it was. He was about to use an Unforgivable on Harry - one to make him scream and writhe in pain. They were both to blame, undeniably.

It was only when the lights extinguished and the portraits began to snore that she slipped from the alcove she had hidden in. She had missed dinner, but time had passed so quickly she had scarcely noticed. Consuming thoughts slowed her knowledge of hunger or stiffness. It was only as she ambled through the darkness that she realised the stabbing pain she had felt upon standing was not her protesting muscles, but her stomach demanding food. She ignored it and pushed open a large, solid door without hesitation.

The lamps within were unlit and the far door to Madam Pomfrey's quarters was closed. A faint light leaked from beneath it, but she paid no mind to that as she strode down the centre aisle between the rows of beds. A quick silencing spell took care of any potential triggers for her entry. Malfoy was the only occupant of the Hospital Wing. He was on the bed closest to the matron's door, a curtain was drawn around him, shielding him, hiding him from the prying eyes of others who would surely ask too many questions. Cassy slipped through the joint of cloth.

The chart at the end of the bed meant more to Cassy than strange numbers and jagged lines; she had read and reread Alphard's chart and read Harry's many analyses during his multiple stays. Malfoy's was positive.

'Come to finish me off?'

Cassy did not turn to look at her cousin. In her peripheral vision, she saw his eyes open, half-lidded and exhausted. She hummed.

'Temping,' she said. 'How is the scarring?'

'Why do you care?' he retorted tiredly. Then, after a pause, 'It's good.'

'Good.'

The was a moment of silence and Cassy slotted the chart back onto the top bar of the bottom bedstead. She turned and he spoke again.

'What are we doing, Cassy?'

Her eyes flickered back towards him. 'Risking our lives for what we believe in.'

It was not the answer he was looking for, but she could not honestly answer his true question. She understood it no better than he did. It was a relief, though, to know he was tired of their continual dances as much as she was.

'Are we?' he questioned, staring at the ceiling.

'I am,' she said.

Malfoy said nothing, his body still.

For a minute, Cassy regarded him. 'Goodnight, Draco.'

There were a hundred different thoughts that bubbled inside her brain following their conversation, but Cassy refused to dwell on any of them. She did not need to, for the overarching feeling she had gathered was that he was uncertain, but she had offered once and the offer still remained open; he just had to grasp it. She would not offer to help him again.

The topic of the previous evening was avoided at breakfast the next day. It seemed that no one was keen to engage in that particular subject. Harry's eyes flickered from Cassy to his food, watching and judging her mood, no doubt waiting for the best time to finally break the silence. It lasted until lunch. On their way to the library, Harry burst. He grabbed Cassy's arm and swung her around to face him. His feet ground to a firm halt and his other hand gripped her other arm securely. She stared at him expectantly, though what came out of his mouth next was not quite what she had anticipated.

'Are you alright?'

She blinked. 'It is hardly me that needs to be asked that.'

His shoulders slumped. 'Cassy, I would never have used that spell if I knew what it did.'

His openness meant that the loitering Neville, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna knew well of the incident.

'I know,' she said after a brief pause.

'Then why did you hesitate?'

The desperation that coloured his voice made Cassy's eyes soften.

'Considering it sounded like Malfoy was going to use an Unforgivable Curse on him, it's a good thing Harry got there first,' said Ginny, her voice cracked through Cassy's easing demeanour. Immediately, she bristled. Cassy would never have allowed that to happen. She knew exactly what was about to slip from Malfoy's tongue. She had stopped him.

Hermione scowled. 'What happened happened, but I can't believe he's going to retrieve that book again anyway! After everything!'

Ginny sneered at her.

Cassy disregarded the apparently ongoing argument between the two and with sharp eyes turned to Harry. 'What does she mean?'

Harry, whose hands were still clamped around her arms, tensed. He breathed in deeply. Cassy's head lowered threateningly as her patience wore thin.

'One bad spell does not make a book evil,' he said.

'The Prince evil, you mean,' snapped Hermione. 'You're obsessed with him, Harry.'

'What happened?' demanded Cassy before Harry could retort with any more than a deep scowl.

'Professor Snape wanted to see Harry's books, he hid his own and gave him Ron's textbook,' said Hermione.

Cassy regarded Harry thoughtfully, a light frown marring her face. 'You are afraid it will be taken from you and not returned.'

Harry sneered and his hands suddenly dropped from her arms. 'Yeah. You know what, I am.'

'What else did Professor Snape say?' she asked.

Harry threw his hands in the air. 'I've got detention every Saturday until the end of term. I suppose Malfoy's got away with nothing?'

'I wouldn't know,' said Cassy, her frown deepened at his tone.

Harry snorted. 'No, you just visited him in the hospital wing and looked at each other.'

'You _spied_ on me?' she demanded.

'You're no different from anyone else and y'know what? I'm getting pretty sick of defending myself when you should know better than anyone what it's like to make that mistake,' he snapped.

Cassy froze.

'What does that mean?' asked Neville uncertainly.

With teeth barred, Cassy snarled, her expression so close to Sirius' cold fury that those who had seen him fight in the Ministry stepped backwards. Her eyes were alight with fire, but so frosted that they promised agony to those who gazed too long. She bit back her expression, but the ice in those blue hues did not fade. Even Harry had not seen such fury from her before.

Her voice was silky and smooth, yet the underlying tone of steel blurred through in her words. It was the same tenors he had heard before when she had fought away Professor Snape's criticism of Neville when they were eleven; he had heard it as she dared anyone to speak against Astoria in the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army; he had heard it when she said she would rather die than join Voldemort. Cassy rarely said useless things, things she did not mean, but it was that tone which held no grounds for movement, no opportunity for compromise or debate.

'You do not understand, do you? None of you understand the guilt I feel for leaving them behind. I had opportunities they did not and without them, I would be exactly where they are, fighting to do what I believe is right, but having no way to do so without risking my family and everything I have. These are people I grew up with, people I have never known, but they are familiar. I am like them. Just because I was sorted into a House of red instead of green changes nothing. I know they are capable of thinking beyond Voldemort, but they won't express it unless someone allows them an avenue because they are afraid - terrified, of what it might mean. I want to be that person.'

It was not addressed to just Harry. She looked between them equally, for as much as she knew they each accepted different parts and on different levels, none of them really understood like she wanted - needed - them to.

'I pushed aside Draco for years because we did not see eye-to-eye with you as my friends. He hated it and I hated him for it. However, he is the closest person I ever had to a sibling and I know him when none of you do. When it comes down to this, he will crumble. It is obvious already that he is deeply regretting his side, a side chosen by his parents, a side I should have tried to sway him from years ago when I separated myself from that crowd by pure chance.

'The closest person I ever had to a mother is married to a Death Eater, has allowed her son to become one, my brother is slipping, my friends are struggling to cope with the pressure of their Houses' fear and their need to do something to side with me and I feel awful. I have tried not to care. I have tried for years and yet now when I do, you tell me I should not? If it is the war you are worried about then do not. I have already accepted that if need be I would kill them myself.'

Hermione gasped. 'Cassy! No one would ask you to do that.'

'It is not about asking, is it? I have to be able to fight them with no hesitation. It is me or them,' she said factually. Her bluntness made everyone wince. It was true, though, she had accepted the fact somewhere subconsciously so long ago that when the thought finally surfaced it did not surprise her in the least. She would rather do it herself. When the moment came to it she would fight her family - the family that cast her out the moment Alphard died, she reminded herself – and she would have to kill them if the chance arose. The difference lay in her mind between a bathroom and a battlefield.

'Cassy,' said Neville softly.

She shook her head, shaking away the thoughts. Again, she locked eyes with Harry. 'I know you did not mean it. I know you never would and in fact, Ginny was correct – it might be justified in some respects. However, that book is unsafe. Please get rid of it.'

The moment Harry shifted his feet, her eyes sharpened. Gone were the resigned blue and instead they took an accusing hue.

'It was only one spell,' he said and she scowled again. 'It was a minor note. He didn't tell me to use it. I chose to! One spell doesn't make an entire book bad. He's taught me a lot.'

'You talk about the book as if it's a person. You are obsessed,' she accused. 'It might have been one spell, but it was one of many in there. What if you had tested another one that day and Ron was not fortunate enough to be strung up by his ankle? What would have happened?'

Hermione and Ginny paled.

'You cannot help yourself,' she sneered.

'You're a fine one to talk. You knew what your spell did and you still used it. It's you who needs to learn some self-control!' he snarled back.

'Enough,' broke in Luna, her hands raised between them.

They ignored her.

'I had a good reason to be in a bad place. Your attack was out of nothing but spite,' she growled.

'Oh, please, you hate Shandy. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it,' he jeered.

'Enough!' shouted Neville, but again, neither listened.

'Why is letting it go such a hard concept for you?' she said, the volume rising above Neville's own.

'It's done more good than harm,' he protested hotly, his voice growing louder too. 'Without it, Slughorn would have died.'

'I could have told you that.'

'I wouldn't have won the Liquid Luck!'

'No, but I would have!'

'Of course, I'll just rely on you for everything, shall I? That's your problem, isn't it? Always having to be the best at everything. That's the only reason you give a damn about the Slytherins.'

'Stop!' shrieked Hermione.

By now, Cassy's ears were burning. A loud ringing echoed inside them, her fury beyond measure and close to bubbling over.

'Is that what you think?' she asked, deadly quiet.

'Sometimes, yeah, it is,' he hissed.

Cassy clenched her fists and ground her teeth. 'Then you don't know me that well. In fact, this has proved you don't know me at all and if you don't know me, how can we possibly be together?'

It was not until the words had left her mouth that Cassy realised what she had said. Despite her anger, despite the desire to lash out at everyone around her, she never meant for that to slip out. The thought came from nowhere. Through all her frustrations that year, she had never once thought they would break up over them. Yet, she had said it aloud for all to hear.

Harry stared, stunned. His mouth was slightly parted, his beautiful green-eyes wide and his face pale. In that moment, all anger wiped from his features. Cassy could not think of a way to take her words back. She could not find a way to say she did not mean it, because when she considered it, she was not so sure she did not. After all, if Harry truly thought she was helping the Slytherins for self-gain, to be some sort of saviour, their relationship would never last much longer anyway. If he truly meant what he had said, he did not understand her at all. She had always been so certain he had. Doubts crept in her mind.

Everyone was white as a ghost around her. Disbelief tugged at their faces.

She looked to the side. 'For your sake, I hope you get rid of that book.'

She turned on her heel and strode down the corridor, forcing her feet to remain at a steady pace, despite their burning desire to run. She did not slow down as she turned the corner away from their sight; her speed increased to a half-jog, a moment away from a full sprint now there were no prying eyes to witness her breakdown.

Suddenly, there was a weight on her shoulder. Too quickly to protest, she found herself spun on the spot and her head buried deeply in the crook of someone's neck. The thin cotton of a long robe brushed her forehead; a scent lingered in the folds of fabric, the smell of grass and roses.

'I'm sorry, Cassy.'

Cassy did not know how to respond. It was hardly Neville's fault she had lost her temper.

He hugged her tighter. 'I'm so sorry.'

Cassy stood with her head against the hollow of his neck and her arms hung limply by her sides. She did not cry, nor did she assure him everything would be fine. Slowly, after a moment in his unrelenting embrace, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around him too.

* * *

 **Whoops! Who's going to kill me? Will they sort it out? Sorry for the long wait! I have had a thousand things to do, but I should be back on track soon.**

 **I couldn't imagine their different stances on various things not being addressed at some point and a fight seemed as good a device as any. They never really argue and it was about time they had a blow-up. It just turned out to be a big one. Plus, this is another chapter showing how great of a bond Cassy and Neville have. Best friends for life right there.**

 **I hope you liked it. It's probably one of my favourite chapters in a long time.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Thanks!**


	25. Nothing left to burn

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XXV: Nothing left to burn**

The aged pages crumpled in the lively flames, blackening as the flames licked the musty corners. There was no unnatural glow as the fire pulled apart the invaluable resource, there were no screams or sudden rising ghosts to suggest it was anything more than a standard textbook used many years prior; then again, Harry supposed the book was not invaluable. He had put a price on it. The price was his and Cassy's relationship.

He had not seen it coming, he had not seen any of it coming and, if he was honest, he could still not truly fathom where it came from. Three days later and Harry was only the slightest bit more aware of what had been happening behind the scenes. Never once had it crossed his mind that they may have been struggling, that there was something in that brilliant head of hers that whispered there was something wrong.

At first, he thought it was merely her anger speaking. His had done the same, the words that flowed off his tongue were not ones he meant. Never in his life would he have said what he did had he been calm, had his head not already been cycling over and over in panic that she too could abandon his cause for nearly murdering her cousin in a school toilet.

He did not go to dinner the evening of their argument, though he heard from Hermione that neither did Cassy. Instead, he lay on his bed in the quiet that rarely blanketed the sixth-year boys' dormitory. Even at night, there was always some sort of noise, whether it was Ron's snoring or Seamus' furious tossing and turning. It was an unusual occasion for Harry to find himself alone and surrounded by silence. There was not much he would not give to have a moment of peace in his life, away from the chaotic adventures and wild personalities of everyone he seems to meet; a moment to himself was overdue, impossible to find since he had become known as The Chosen One once and for all. It was no wonder Cassy valued her alone time so much.

He groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. At the mere thought of her name, the rare experience was something sullied and unpleasant. The stone that had already sunk into the depths of his stomach edged lower and lower, making him feel queasy and restless. Suddenly, the ticking of Dean's Westham alarm clock echoed through the room; he could hear the soft whistling of the spring breeze through the single-glazed window beside Ron's bed, and he could hear the scraping of the birds that had made their nest in the hollows of the outer brick not far from where his own bed met the wall. The pleasant silence was gone, leaving only irritating little disturbances in its wake.

He spent much of that evening thinking over what Cassy had said. Every word of the conversation echoed through his mind, each time sounding different, with different connotations and different meanings he could not begin to discern from what was true and what his mind had merely made up to make his heart hurt a little more.

It was not until late that Neville came up to bed. He slipped between his covers, clad in chequered pyjamas, and appeared thoroughly exhausted even in the darkness. He rubbed his eyes and spared a glance over to Harry. Immediately, he jumped, spotting two glimmering eyes from the adjacent bed. With his hand on his heart, he flopped onto his back with a heavy sigh.

'Goodnight, Harry,' whispered Neville, staring at the canopy above him.

Harry's lips had been parted for some time, but the right words kept failing to emerge. Finally, he settled on just saying something before the moment passed him by entirely. 'Did you see this coming?'

For a moment, Neville was quiet and Harry had his answer.

'She said you were fine,' the other whispered back softly. 'I asked if something was wrong, but she said it would be fine. I guess things got too much.'

Harry's lips drew into a tight, thin line.

'How could you not tell me!' demanded Harry. His voice rose and Ron snorted in his bed. There was shuffling across the room and both boys could tell Dean was awake and peering at them curiously.

'Even if I did there was nothing that could be done,' hissed Neville while he eyes flicked around the room in search of further prying ears. 'Look, Harry - '

'I could've talked to her!' continued Harry, although he remembered to attempt to whisper this time.

'It wouldn't have made any difference,' protested Neville, finally looking at him. 'Do you get where she's coming from? Do you get what she's upset about? Because if not, then you didn't listen to anything she said!' There was a pause and then Neville sighed. 'Harry, I'm so sorry. That sounded worse -'

'Save it,' said Harry before rolling to face away from the other. 'I know you're best friends.'

'You're also my best friend, you know that, right? I just, I just don't know how to help right now.'

Harry did not reply.

When he woke up the following morning, he had resolved to speak to Cassy. They could sort everything out because regardless of what she and Neville thought, he did understand her. He was certain he did, he would have bet his life on it, but in that single moment yesterday she shattered that confidence. He could not know her that well after all if he did not see that outburst coming, surely. His confidence had deflated by the time he sat down to breakfast. Suddenly, he did not feel like eating, although he had missed the meal the night before too. With arms crossed on the tabletop in front, he kept his eyes trained on the door to the Great Hall, searching through the incoming bodies with eyes usually only reserved for Quidditch.

'She's over there,' said Neville, once he had sat down. He pointed to a table on the far side of the hall. Craning his neck, Harry saw the back of Cassy's slender form and opposite was the tangled head of hair belonging to only Stephen Goodridge and beside her was Astoria Greengrass, who was staring intensely at him. Harry held her stare, then, when it became apparent Astoria was not going to look away anytime soon, Harry turned his attention back to the plate of food Hermione had piled up for him.

'She's not cooled off, then?' asked Ginny uneasily.

'She was gone when I woke up this morning,' said Hermione with a small glance to Harry.

He sunk lower into his seat. She was still angry, so much so that she had chosen to avoid him rather than merely act as though his existence was that of an exceedingly gaudy lamp as she did when she and Hermione fought.

Harry spent the remainder of Sunday alone. He had managed to shake away Hermione somewhere in the library and he had all but pushed Neville towards Cassy with a plea that he should make sure she was okay, that she was fairing better than his insides were right then. It was not until he sunk down onto the staircase of the Astronomy Tower that the reality of the situation hit him fully. It was not a mere argument that they could get around as they always did – Harry had made a huge mistake. He had not listened to her.

It was easy to take the things Cassy did for granted, he thought with the icy breeze on his back. She had her quirks, that he was certain of, but her empathy towards the Slytherins, to Pure-Bloods in general, and her involvement in that world, one so far from his own, was not a quirk. It was something that had always been part of her character. When they were children, he had considered it a mild nuisance because it got in the way of his hatred towards Malfoy, but as they got older he considered it merely something that was related to Cassy. After all, she had been brought up by a Pure-Blood to act like a Pure-Blood, so any relationship between the Slytherins and his best-friend come girlfriend was merely a matter of history. He had never minded it, in fact, he would have admitted privately to himself that he enjoyed her little Wizarding habits – the way she would dance so gracefully, her utter horror at eating with her fingers, the way she knew something about everyone, and how effortlessly she could change from being the sarcastic, affection-wary girl into a charismatic woman who commanded the room around her. He loved those things about her. He always had and he knew he always would, but never had Harry considered the ties went any deeper than that.

That had been his huge mistake, the cause of the burning in his eyes and why his heart was tying itself in knots at every turn. Of course, the connection would be deeper. Cassy loved her culture. That much was obvious, even to Harry, but he never considered that her connection to the people mattered as much to her as the society. She had always been so closed off from people. Even when they had been what Harry would term "friends" for several months she still would not be open with him about her mother being a Muggle although it meant nothing to him, and she still chose to handle things alone and almost got herself killed in second year because of it. She had taken on the most deranged student Harry had ever met in the form of Shandy in fourth year alone and had not even contemplated admitting to them how much she was struggling with Alphard's death and Sirius' return. Cassy was simply not a person who relied on others, nor was she one who wanted to surround herself with many as a result. It was not often that she was anything but "neutral" towards a person, so it had never crossed Harry's mind that she had any genuine inclination to the Slytherins.

He still did not understand it, though he tried. To rally them was one thing, but to feel the guilt she had all but shouted at him was another entirely and Harry was not sure how he had missed it.

Cassy did not sit with them at dinner that day either nor at breakfast the next. She was in his classes, but she had pointedly swapped her usual seat beside him for occupying Hermione's a person away or a table in front. Beside her was often a mix of Neville and Hermione. They seemed to have decided to circulate between the two, though Harry just found that worse than if he had found himself alone. He had made them feel torn between them. After lunch and dinner that day, Harry carelessly strode into the Room of Requirements, pleased for once that Malfoy was not lurking within to block his entrance. From within a dusty draw, he pulled the battered copy of his textbook, or rather, the Half-Blood Prince's textbook, for Harry wanted nothing to do with it anymore.

It did not bring him any satisfaction to watch it burn. He sat with his knees to his chest, nestled in a plush scarlet armchair within the common room as the final pages turned to ash. For as much as he had gotten rid of the book, one of Cassy's requests finally fulfilled, it brought nothing more to him than a pile of ash and a pretty orange glow of flickering flames. All the energy he had spent marching to the Room of Requirement and back, all the anger he had put into tearing the pages apart and littering the grate with the penned notes faded into nothing.

God, it had been so easy, he thought. It was so simple, in the end, to get rid of the book, but it had not brought her back. Harry did not know what he had expected to happen. There was no conscious thought that she might sense the book burning, or that the act would reverse the three days silence that had incurred, but he could not help but feel hollow when the last of the pages faded and nothing at all happened.

Three days of silence and Harry was no closer to sorting this mess out.

'She'll come around,' said Ginny.

Harry jumped, unaware the red-head had taken residence on the sofa beside Hermione.

'I've had enough breakups to tell you this one isn't normal,' she continued, but her attempt of comfort did little to ease Harry's nerves.

 _Breakup_ , his mind echoed. They had _broken up._

His smile was so pinched that Hermione and Ginny winced at the sight of it. He bid them a quick goodnight, despite the clock only recently having struck eight. Once in his dormitory, he drew the curtains sharply around his bed and did not emerge again that evening.

When he climbed out of bed the next morning, having hardly slept and looking worse for wear, Harry's jaw was set in grim determination. He was going to speak to Cassy today, one way or another. He was going to fix what had broken between them, because he could not bare the thought of it being irrevocably broken; something had to give and it would, until he knew for certain that she wanted nothing more to do with him, until there was nothing left to burn.

Again, she did not sit with them at breakfast, although Luna had joined her that morning at the Ravenclaw table with Goodridge and Greengrass. He could only imagine what a spectacle that would have been but any amusement that might have lit up Cassy's now stoic face was gone by the time she reached Transfiguration that morning. Harry was reprimanded twice by Professor McGonagall for not paying attention – she had mercifully neglected to announce he had been staring at Cassy both times – and he did not manage to catch her after class as she slipped away to Ancient Runes with Hermione. He did not see either girl at lunch and he assumed they were in the library together. As perfect an opportunity as that sounded in Harry's mind to pull Cassy away to speak to her, he was unable to locate either of them until they appeared for Potions at the end of the day.

'Where have you two been?' he murmured as Hermione stopped beside him and Ron in the half-formed line outside the classroom.

'Doing homework,' said Hermione.

'You weren't in the library,' said Harry and Hermione's eyebrows rose.

'We went to visit Hagrid afterwards. The homework didn't take too long. Why?' she asked, interest and faint hope lighting up her face.

'No reason, I was just in there at lunch, so I knew you weren't there,' he lied. He did not have to see the sceptical expression on Hermione's face to know it was an unconvincing lie, he had never voluntarily stepped foot in the library at lunch unless it was for a desperate research.

He looked beyond her and towards Cassy. Her hair was in a bun today, more elaborate that he had seen it all week and she was smiling at Ernie as he chattered endlessly, his hands waving madly. Ernie was not a bad person, bossy and vocal, but not harmful to those around him. Harry could not recall exactly when he and Cassy had begun speaking frequently, though Ernie had sat beside Cassy for much of Potions that year to consolidate what by now must have been friendship. In the past, he had toyed with the idea that Ernie had a crush on Cassy, but the notion died as quickly as it came after some careful observation.

Harry blinked, an idea struck him. Contemplating, he entered the classroom and vaguely listen to Professor Slughorn's merry instructions. Robotically, he followed the instructions in his borrowed textbook as he was drawn deeper and deeper into thought. Suddenly, he glanced over his shoulder and straight at Cassy. She was at a table with Ernie, but the table beside her was one Zabini occupied with a little cluster of Slytherins. She was talking to him, a half-smile on her lips, most likely sarcastic and drawling, teasing a response from the other. Zabini smirked in response, a short word leaving his own mouth before the two laugh. Zabini laughed with a Gryffindor. Even Ernie looked as though he snickered.

Harry let out a long hum. He gathered a fistful of beetles into his hand and dropped them into the cauldron. He turned to Hermione. 'Do you -? '

There was a sudden plume of thick, purple smoke that enveloped his vision. He coughed as the smoke rose higher and higher, engulfing the ceiling in a fast-paced smog.

'Oh, dear,' sighed Professor Slughorn. 'Everybody out! Someone put in too many beetles.'

Harry glanced down at his desk. The counted and halved beetles were still on the table, whereas the spare pile he had grabbed from the front of the room were almost entirely gone. Sighing, he picked up his bag and exited the room with no real hurry. Everyone murmured amongst themselves for several minutes until Professor Slughorn declared the task suspended and the room out of bounds. The smoke had solidified all across the ceiling, rendering the room unusable until he could figure a way to remove it.

Harry turned to Cassy. She was still standing with Zabini and Ernie. The other Slytherins loitered nearby, not protesting to her presence, but not embracing it either. He stared for a long time and watched as they made quiet conversation before they all departed in different directions to occupy themselves before dinner.

Harry thought back to his earlier idea and tightened his grip on his bag strap. He was not an excellent planner, yet the idea resonated as probably the best he had had in a long while. He strode past Cassy and the group of students with her. He liked to think the burning he felt on his back was not part of his imagination, but rather Cassy's eyes watching him go, though that would mean she would have finally had to look at him.

The first place he found his feet carrying him to was the library. Despite his mind wavering beyond what the bare minimum to do well in academics, Harry had become very well antiquated with the library. It was in part due to his adventures and in part the responsibility of his very studious friends who valued study and progress and had made the library their unofficial meeting point through the years. It was for that reason that it did not take him long to locate the isle he was looking for.

A towering bookcase stood proudly in front of him, packed with ancient books with broken spines and newer, glittering texts that had never been touched. A snort escaped his mouth at the sight of Magical Me crammed amongst the stories of Merlin and Gryffindor. As tempting as it was to humour the memory of his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry kept his eyes searching. Even he did not know exactly what he was looking for. The idea was still only half-formed in his head, he had a vague outline of what he wanted to do and no realistic plan to achieve it. Still, he pulled a black book from the highest shelf, using his lofty height and the tips of his toes.

Silver leaf coated the embossed letters on the front and spine. It was a plain book. Although the inner pages were lines with silver too, the cover itself was bland and smooth. No swirling vines or colourful images lit the darkness of the covering. The silver letters merely glinted in the late afternoon sun, reading: _Salazar Slytherin: Life and Legacy._ Deciding the book as a good a place to start as any other, Harry retreated to a table nearby, depositing his bag and cloak in a heap on the surface. He sat down and opened the book for what must have been the first time in years.

It was two hours later that his stomach called for attention. The book had been dull, so utterly tedious to read that Harry had considered blinding himself as an excuse to stop. Yet, there was something amongst the winding passages that he found himself intrigued by. It was not until the third book he had pulled from the shelf, _Slytherin's tale_ , that a pattern began to emerge that had him both deeply vexed and oddly interested. Nobody knew a single concrete fact about Salazar Slytherin other than his love of ambition and his dislike of Muggles. The only common theme in the dozen books he had piled in front of him was that he preferred Pure-Bloods. The reasons varied from his pernicious nature to a total fear of what Muggles would do to witches and wizards when they were discovered. Sympathy or damnation of his reasoning did not matter, what interested Harry was that no one actually knew a single thing about him and yet an entire hoard of people were trying to destroy their society in his name.

He had just discovered a book tucked in the far back of the shelf on Merlin himself when his stomach reminded him of the time. Almost reluctantly, Harry stood and asked Madam Pince not to tidy away his things for he would be back after dinner to continue his search. She seemed entirely unconcerned with his new project, although she did cast an appraising eye in the direction of his nestled away desk, most likely waiting for someone else to emerge no far behind him.

His energised demeanour did not go unnoticed at dinner. No one really wanted to question his sudden lease of life. It was with some effort that Harry managed to deter them from following him after the meal. He did not stay long and wrapped some toast in a serviette to smuggle into the library to keep him going. Now that he had exited the library and had a chance to converse, his interest in what he had been reading was fading quickly. Any burst of motivation he had found amongst the pages was not to be long-lived, yet despite that, Harry sat himself back in his seat and continued from where he had left off.

It was not until the sharp voice of Madam Pince interrupted his reading of Merlin that he packed away his belongings and promised to be back tomorrow as well. The Matron raised her greying eyebrow, rightfully sceptical of Harry's reappearance on a Saturday. However, after his detention with Professor Snape, Harry was indeed back in the library and it was there that he spent much of his weekend, until Quidditch practice called and he ventured into the stands to unofficially – as he had been suspended for the rest of the year for his actions – coach his team to victory in their last game only now two weeks away.

By Monday, Hermione had grown suspicious of Harry's absences.

'Where do you keep disappearing to?' she asked, falling into the seat beside him in the common room.

'I'm just sorting some stuff out,' he answered back easily, still half in thought.

'Like that?'

'Like stuff.'

Hermione frowned. She was silent for a moment. 'Cassy's noticed, you know, that you're never around.'

'Has she now?' he replied. Of course she had, he thought, there was very little Cassy failed to notice.

'What's with you?' demanded Hermione. 'I thought you'd be upset, but that lasted all of a week!'

For the first time since the other had sat down, Harry looked up. His black brows were furrowed so deeply his brilliant green eyes were hardly visible behind his glasses.

'How can you honestly think I'm not bothered?' he barked back, his voice coloured somewhere between anger and disbelief. 'I love her, Hermione, and I'm not sure what to do with myself without her. What I'm doing is something that I can't tell you because I have to do it alone if it's going to mean anything at all and you can't tell her that I'm up to something either. Promise me you won't say I'm doing anything.'

Hermione's brown eyes were wide, but she did not shrink at his sudden aggression. Where she normally would have fluttered between a fiery retort of her own and a flustered attempt to calm him down, she instead nodded and gave him a soft smile.

'If it helps you two then I won't say a word, but you're just as bad as she is for not saying what you feel, you know.'

The topic quickly changed to their Defence Against the Dark Arts homework that Hermione had wanted to talk to him about all along and Harry settled into the end of the night with a smile on his face.

It was not until that Friday evening, after observing Cassy once again chatting with various friends from other Houses, that Harry decided resolutely to contact Sirius. He had toyed with the idea for a number of days, but each and every time his brain loudly declared that although being his Godfather, Sirius was Cassy's father and any slip up in mentioning their breakup may leave a very unhappy Black on the other end of the two-way mirror.

It was not as though Harry thought Sirius would spurn him for how things had happened, not at all considering the topic of their disagreement, but he could not help but feel the fewer people who tried to speak to him about it the better – particularly if one of them had to be Cassy's dad. However, he found himself staring at his own reflection with the mirror in hand, tucked away in a far-flung corridor of the castle after dinner that same evening. He waited patiently, toying with the reflection of light across the walls until a familiar head of dark hair appeared in his view, grey-eyes blazing.

'Harry!' cheered Sirius joyfully. 'How're you doing?'

'Fine,' Harry lied automatically. 'How're things with you?'

'Still stuck in my mother's house for the most part. The Order's been trying to recruit and I've been doing a bit of that, but we've really slowed down progress with all the attacks that have been happening lately. People aren't even keen to entertain our presence.' Sirius ran a hand through his shortened hair, the black strands immediately falling back across his cheekbones.

'Has anyone signed up?' he asked curiously.

'A few people,' said Sirius, 'but we have also had a few who have turned out to be some dodgy characters. Mad-Eye's taken care of those when they've cropped up. Anyway, how is school? How's having Snape as a teacher going?'

'Crap,' said Harry honestly. 'I hate it.'

'Is he giving you a hard time?' asked Sirius.

No more than I deserve, thought Harry bitterly. His treatment had become simultaneously better and worse following the incident in the bathroom. Snape almost entirely left Harry alone, he completely ignored his existence with the minor exception of scoring him a 'T' on every bit of work Harry submitted. It was almost great to have the greasy-haired man ignore him so entirely, it made a lovely change from his usual remarks, but all of his hatred had merely been redirected at the other Gryffindor. Each jab and insult boiled Harry's blood. Snape knew that, he had once commented on Harry's inability to stand by, and Harry would much rather have the anger all to himself than watch as Neville's face fell a fraction further with each announcement of his uselessness.

'There's only a month left,' Harry settled on saying.

Sirius cocked his head to one side. 'I heard about what happened with Malfoy.'

Harry jolted. Who had he heard that from?

'Snape told me himself,' snorted Sirius, as though reading Harry's mind. 'He barged in and told me to take better control of my kids.' He rolled his eyes.

Any warmth at being referred to as Sirius' family was squashed by the wrenching in his gut, because if Sirius knew that, what else did he know?

'Yeah,' said Harry slowly, 'he's still pretty angry about that.'

'He always will be,' said Sirius indifferently. 'I accidentally almost got him killed in my fifth-year – and believe me, it was an accident. I never thought it would go as far as it did. He's never got over that and we're thirty-six now.'

Harry smiled.

Sirius suddenly frowned. 'How's Cassy?'

Harry's lips drew into a thin line. 'She's okay. She's... she's angry with me, though. About Malfoy.'

Slowly, Sirius nodded. He was silent for a second, his eyes glazed in thought. A moment later, his attention was on Harry once again and a slight smile had tugged on his lips. 'It's really difficult to let go of your family when they are someone you thought loved you for a time. Reggie was my little brother. I always tried to protect him from our parents and what they believed in, but once I ended up in Gryffindor and him in Slytherin, it became almost impossible to do that. He grew to hate me, in the end, but I never stopped caring. It's just something that I learnt to deal with and Cassy will too, but unfortunately, Cassy's a lot like I was at her age.' Sirius did not expand on what he meant by that and rather smiled wickedly. 'Your first fight. Have you apologised?'

'Not exactly,' he replied, rubbing his eyes. 'I'm working on it.'

'Make sure not to work on it too long, women won't wait forever.'

Harry almost snorted. He did not want to be taking dating advice from Sirius.

There was a fluttering of voices in the distance and it took Harry a moment to realise that it was a grumbling from Sirius' end. The voices themselves were impossible to discern, there were two, perhaps three voices muffled and their words inaudible. For a moment, Sirius peered beyond the mirror, his expression alight with something akin to excitement at the sound of bodies filling his ancestral home. The image in front of Harry shifted as Sirius padded along out of the drawing room and into a dark corridor. His face was barely illuminated by a far-away window. It had never struck Harry before, but Sirius tended to wander through the house in the dark unless a light was truly needed. Perhaps years of darkness in the depths of Azkaban had created something of a habit.

'Fancy seeing you here,' he heard Sirius call.

There was a shout of greeting and Harry's ears perked up.

'Is there a meeting?' asked Harry, silently willing there was not for once.

'No,' said Sirius as he brought the mirror back up to eye-level. 'Tonks and Bill have just popped in to bring some stuff over. Smells like Molly's made food!'

'Can I speak to Tonks. Quickly, I mean, if she's alright with it. I have a question,' said Harry quickly. He knew he had heard her voice.

Sirius blinked owlishly and nodded. 'Tonks!'

'Yeah?' came the loud reply.

'Harry wants to speak to you.'

'Harry? What's Harry doing here?'

'He's not here, you gnome!'

Any view of Grimmauld place was suddenly distorted in a flurry of dark colours. When the mirror stopped waving, Harry just managed to catch a glimpse of the exchange of hands between Sirius and Tonks. Sirius called back for Tonks to give him a shout when she was done, after all, he had much to catch up with his Godson.

In the months since Christmas, Tonks' hair had grown longer. It was almost level with her chin, yet remained shockingly bubblegum pink. Her dark eyes blinked in surprise much like Sirius' had while she fumbled around in the dark back to the lit drawing room down the hall.

'Wotcha, Harry,' she greeted.

'Tonks, how're you?'

'I'm good, thanks. A little surprised now you've asked to speak to me. You're not in trouble, are you? Because honestly, Bill would be your best bet to get you out of that.'

Harry gave a short laugh and ruffled his hair awkwardly. 'Yeah, actually. I am kind of in trouble, but with Cassy.' He grimaced when her eyes finally paused and settled on him.

'Right.' Ungracefully, Tonks deposited herself into one of the ancient sofas in the drawing room, wiggling to ingrain a position for herself amongst the tough stuffing. 'Go on then, shoot.'

Sometimes, Harry cursed his impulsiveness. His plan had been to speak to Sirius about his view on the Slytherin House, ask about his family a little to gauge whether the stories he had heard were accurate representations of the House as a whole, or if he and his daughter had been unfortunate in their birthing to experience a particularly brutal lineage. Then, when he had heard Tonks' spirited tones, his plan had changed faster than the wings of a Snitch could beat. Now, he had to admit to Cassy's cousin exactly how much everything had gone wrong.

He hesitated. 'Your mum was in Slytherin, right?'

Tonks nodded slowly.

'Well, what's she like?'

The bemusement on the other's face was no surprise, because even Harry found himself shocked at his own question.

'Why?' questioned Tonks and Harry shrugged.

'Just something Cassy said about Slytherins. I'm – I'm trying to see her point a little more,' he said vaguely.

Humming, Tonks turned to stare at the ceiling. 'My mother is one of the most protective people I have ever met, besides Molly, probably. She cares a great deal about anyone she likes and despite what you might think, it's not hard to get her to like you. She worries a lot about whether my dad and I are okay, which is why she tends to over feed him. She wasn't really keen on me being an Auror because of the dangers, but she always shows it off whenever anyone asks! It's so embarrassing! She and Sirius are quite similar, actually. They joke a lot and were really close apparently when they were younger.'

Harry smiled, imagining she was where Tonks got her sense of humour from.

'She's the only one in our household who can actually tidy well. My dad and I tend to move things around, but mum's really proper about it all. It's definitely something she worries about, keeping a proper appearance. Then again, not so much in name, because she did marry my dad and he's a Muggleborn.'

Tonks stretched out along the sofa.

'She is ambitious, if that's what you're after. She knows what she wants and she will always try to get it, but she's not one of those women who squashes everyone around her for it. She's ambitious in a different sort of way.'

'Ambition doesn't mean evil,' muttered Harry to himself, reiterating a line he had read earlier that week.

'Nope, not at all,' said Tonks airily. 'I was thought of as being pretty ambitious for wanting to be an Auror when no one had been accepted in years, especially with how clumsy I am! There's nothing wrong with being ambitious. Cassy's very ambitious, but she's certainly not evil.'

There was a definite difference between ambition and Slytherin ambition, Harry wanted to say. He held his tongue and allowed Tonks to continue with her description of her mother and he could not help but notice that Andromeda, despite being a Slytherin, had something of a soft heart. It was almost funny when Harry realised that had he not known Andromeda was a Slytherin, he would never have guessed she had been one.

'They don't really matter, do they? Houses, I mean,' he asked with a heavy sigh.

'Not really,' said Tonks. 'Not unless you're in Hufflepuff, which will always mean you're the superior wizard!'

Harry laughed and although Tonks insisted she was not at all joking, she laughed with him.

It was not until curfew that Harry ended his call with Sirius. Tonks popped by every now and again if she was passing by to argue what House was superior – she was dramatically overruled by the three Gryffindor that surrounded her - and Bill had dropped in to say hello too. For the first time in the last two weeks, Harry returned to the common room with a smile on his face. Neither Sirius nor Tonks had asked what he and Cassy had argued about. Sirius assumed it was something that would simply blow over and from their conversation, Harry could assume that Tonks had a good idea what the topic could be. His heart was lighter from their conversations. Although he was more self-assured that his plan was shaping to be a good idea indeed, he refused to let his confidence spill over into something impulsive that ruined the effort he had put into it so far.

So when Harry saw Cassy sitting beside Ginny by the fire, he did not call her away and fumble over the words that constantly battled to escape his mouth. He walked straight by her and went upstairs to his dormitory, knowing he just needed to think of something else before he could finally approach her to see if there was any chance of her taking him back.

It was the final stages of his idea that found him impulsively, despite his determination to plan this time, following a small huddle of Slytherins back to their dormitory Wednesday night. He was momentarily at a loss when he entered the huge underground room. All his previous excursions to the dark common room had been with a defined purpose, this one, however, was more in the name of a vague inkling of a half-formed concept.

Awkwardly, Harry stood beneath his Invisibility Cloak, reluctantly basking in the green light that filtered through the murky depths of the Black Lake above. He hovered near a group of students he did not recognise, determined to remain away from those he did. If he had any intention of seeing Slytherins as they were rather than what they were perceived to be, he needed to begin with students who were not already thoroughly tainted in his mind's eye.

The first years were giggly and noisy. They were shot silencing glares every few minutes and for a while, they would hush before the noise bubbled up again and they were left smothering their mouths as they tried not to roll around on the leather sofas.

The group of second years spoke avidly of Quidditch. Their eyes were bright as they spoke of their team, each player being analysed for their strengths and flaws. A sudden rush of energy hit them as they tried in vein to devise a new chant for the match on Saturday. Many failed rhymes later and they had nothing to show for it but sore cheeks and horse throats as the giggles struggled to calm.

The third years complained of homework and the forth years were playing Exploding Snap. There was a small betting pool of sweets and Chocolate Frog cards that had attracted many other year students by the time Harry moved away.

It was not until he reached a huddle of seventh years that Harry was reminded of why he was so wary of them in the first place.

'I'm going to join,' said one boy, lounging in an armchair. The darkened corner cast great shadows across his face, highlighting his cheekbones and shadowing his eyes sinisterly. Those around his were called to attention at the declaration, but none of them moved. They continued to lounge as they had been with only their eyes shifting to him. 'Aren't you, Ben?'

Harry's eyes suddenly turned to Shandy, who he had failed to see as he had approached. The older boy, a man now of eighteen, flicked his gaze to the other lazily and scoffed.

'No.'

His short answer was met with several gasps, most loudly from the red-head who had began the conversation.

'Why not?' he demanded and Shandy merely waved his hand airily.

'It's not for me, the whole army thing. I would be more useful elsewhere. You have to be of a certain... disposition to be in the Dark Lord's ranks,' he drawled. No one questioned what that disposition was, each seeming to take their own meaning from his words.

'I'm going to join. I'd like to meet Bellatrix LeStrange in person,' said a dark-haired girl as she lounged against a blond boy.

'I would join him just to kill some Mudbloods,' added a portly boy.

Some of them snickered and others jeered; some, on the other hand, did not react at all.

It was then that Harry took his leave. Deciding he had seen enough, he knew he would not be back the next day.

It was not until late Friday morning that Harry had any other encounters with a Slytherin. He had successfully avoided any conversation with them all through Thursday and if he did talk to them, it seemed as though Malfoy's friends were unlikely to speak to him either. It was only that morning that Harry spotted the familiar white-blond hair of the other amongst the faces of the Great Hall. It had taken two weeks, but Malfoy had finally left the Hospital Wing, looking exactly as he had before the incident had ever happened – tired and paranoid, but healthy enough.

Cassy did not bat an eyelash as her cousin entered the Hall. Harry kept a close eye on her from where he sat, but she did not stop her conversation to so much as glance at the other. She failed to acknowledge him in Transfiguration too and it became apparent that the pair were avoiding each other as effortlessly as they had been many weeks before.

It was therefore not until third and forth period where Harry had a study session, that he had any reason at all to encounter Malfoy at all. The other stared at him for a moment as they passed in the corridor; he was entirely alone, just as Harry was. Malfoy's eyes met for only a second, his face passive and void of any anger or fear. It was only for a second and then, he was gone, having turned and strode down the corridor towards the staircases. There was not a doubt in his mind that Malfoy was heading to the seventh floor to finish whatever Voldemort had tasked him with.

'Not going to go too?'

Harry could have groaned at the voice. It was high and haughty, usually filled with laughter but now sharp with accusations. He turned and stared down at Astoria Greengrass. Her hands were perched on her hips and her eyes were narrowed in a judging manner already. Harry had not even said anything. He moved to step past her, but she stepped in his way. Moving to the other side was of no use either, she just followed his steps. Rolling his eyes, he turned to walk back in the direction he came and avoid her entirely when she spoke.

'I don't know what you and Cassy have fought over, but you have really upset her,' she announced.

Harry growled. 'Why does everyone think I would do something like that on purpose? I fucked up, I get it. I've spent the last three weeks trying to learn everything I can about Slytherins and Pure-Blood to try and see her bloody perspective. And I do, I get it. Although you guys are still a bunch of arseholes, you're actually not all evil and it's hard to be anything but when people think you are. It's a prophesy people set up for you and one you fulfil because no other option is left. No, Houses don't matter outside of Hogwarts. Does anyone care when you're at work? No. Why? Because how does a House you were put into at eleven help you do your job better than anyone else?'

When he finished, he really wanted to groan. Not only had the words slipped freely from his mouth, Astoria simply took one look at him and stalked away in the opposite direction. Once she was out of sight, Harry kicked the wall hard.

He hardly slept that night. His mind kept whirling with the knowledge that the next day would be the final Quidditch match of the season and his last as Captain. He could only hope that he was appointed Captain again next year so he could rectify the mistakes he had made this year and actually get to play in the final match. Ginny was the substitute Seeker and Dean was going to take her place. Besides the fact that it was not Ginny's preferred position, the team were quietly confident that they would manage to pull a victory out of what seemed like utter disaster.

The next morning, Harry received several cuffs around the head and complains from his scarlet clad teammates that he was truly terrible for getting into trouble so close to the end of the season. He heartedly agreed and waved them off. For a brief moment, he had sat near Cassy at breakfast as she decided to eat with Ginny and Ron and wish them good luck. It was closest the group had been to normal since their explosive argument.

By the time Harry waved his team off and turned to head for his detention, she was gone and his opportunity to speak to her had vanished.

'You're late,' drawled Snape when Harry opened the classroom door.

Harry did not even bother to glance up to the clock on the wall. An argument would only cause him to have to remain longer and he really did want to watch the match. At his silence, Snape's lips curled cruelly.

'Normally, I would blame it on you gallivanting around with Miss Black, but you've not been around her much lately. Has she finally grown tired of your arrogance too?' he said, casting his dark eyes over his shoulder, his hands still busy with the files on his desk behind.

Harry's jaw clenched. Every fibre of his being wanted to retort, to tell Snape what a disgusting and loathsome person he was, but he did not. He stood silently until the penetrating eyes grew bored of his silence.

Harry was to move every desk within eight classrooms in preparation of the end of year exams that would be beginning in under two weeks. Once he had heaved them all into perfectly straight, level lines, he was allowed to leave. Part of him expected it was merely because Snape wanted to watch his own House triumph that he allowed Harry to go while the match was still on at all. He had half expected the man to keep him locked away until tails of victory or defeat echoed through the halls, however many hours later than may have been.

'Run along to your little friends now, Potter. You never know, being the wailing Captain of a miserable Quidditch team might make Black take some pity on you,' said Snape before he disappeared down the marble staircase.

Harry's gut tightened and he imagined a dozen ways to tear the smug smirk from Snape's lips all the way downstairs. Even from the entrance hall, there was a faint roar of the crowd. The words were indistinguishable and the cheers and boos merged into one terrible din so that any idea of how the match was going was completely incomprehensible. Although he had been looking forward to his moment of freedom all morning, Harry suddenly found the idea of watching the match wholly unappealing. He did not want to join the throng of bodies cheering and clapping when he felt so disastrous inside. Insults from Snape of all people should never mean anything to Harry, but it sounded even worse coming from his lips.

Over and over again, Harry assured himself that Snape was merely guessing, that the break between himself and Cassy was not so wide that everyone could see it. They were merely stretched, not broken; he would not accept broken, not until she said it plain and clear. The long grass bent and crumpled beneath his feet before it sprung back to life once the weight was lifted. The roars of the pitch were louder now, even as he moved from the pathway and down a sloping hill towards the Black Lake. The pitch was in the opposite direction, but Harry did not concentrate on where his feet carried him; he was repeating everything he had found out in the last three weeks, lining up the words he was going to say to Cassy in a perfectly selected order.

His feet no longer swung when he perched upon the recumbent limb of the old tree he, Cassy, and Neville had claimed in their first year. The branch dipped slightly beneath his weight, but held strong, far too used to the clambering of students to break under such light abuse.

'Why have you been talking to my friends?'

It was becoming an unfortunate trend that Harry jumped at the sound of unexpected voices. He very nearly leapt from his seat to pull forth his wand in the time it took his brain to recognise the voice, the voice he had not heard in three whole weeks for the first time since he was eleven-years-old.

'Cassy,' he murmured.

She stood some distance away, her arms folded across her chest. A red shirt clung to her figure, a navy skirt and black tights covered her legs with faintly heeled boots on her feet. Her thick hair was plaited and draped over her shoulder and her pale face was set in a look he could not quite discern. It was only after she continued to stare at him expectantly, that Harry realised she had asked him a question.

'Astoria spoke to me,' he said and she continued to stare. 'Where did you come from, anyway?'

'Hagrid's. I saw you stomping past the window, and that's not what she and Stephen said. They said you keep trying to talk to them about Shandy, that you two have been in an argument and he's challenged you to a duel,' she said, her arms folded more tightly than before.

Despite himself, Harry's face scrunched. ' _What_?'

'Are you?' she asked impatiently.

'Am I what?' he said.

'Going to duel Shandy?'

'Of course not! I've never said more than five words to the bloke!' he denied, scandalised. 'I don't know what your friends are up to, but I've not spoken to Goodridge at all. Astoria spoke to me when she asked why I wasn't trying to murder Malfoy in the corridor.'

Cassy frowned. 'Astoria knows nothing about what happened. Albus asked me to keep it a secret.'

'Great,' he muttered. 'At least that's one good thing.' He shut his eyes.

'Astoria also said she's seen you loitering around the Slytherin common room,' continued Cassy, still with a disapproving tilt to her eyebrows. 'Are you going to tell me that's not true as well?'

It was certainly not true. There was no way Astoria would have seen him because he was well hidden beneath his cloak. However, he opened his eyes and gazed out over the lake. 'No, that bit might be true.'

'Why?'

'Because I've been trying to figure out what you see in Slytherins. I wanted to see if they were everything you think they are.' Harry kept his eyes firmly set on the lake. 'Salazar Slytherin is virtually an unknown person. No one bothered to record anything about him – nothing that's still about, anyway. No one knows why he hated Muggles. Some people think it's because he was afraid of the witch hunts or what they might demand wizards to do, but no one knows.

'I didn't know Merlin was a Slytherin either, or the creator of the Wolfsbane potion. The person who first advocated laws against child abuse was also in Slytherin. I didn't know that, but it hardly matters what House someone is in in the end, because once you have left Hogwarts no one is going to ask. What it comes down to is Blood purity and you don't have to be in Slytherin for that. Until a couple of generations ago, the Bones family were huge on Blood purity. Susan is still a Pure-Blood even though they've officially let the stance go.'

He paused for a breath and continued, his voice growing more confident. 'I get that they're normal people. I watched them talk when no one is around and I know that sounds weird, but they are normal, aren't they? They're not constantly firing insults or figuring how to tear another down to get ahead. Ambition isn't evil. I still think half of them are idiots and the other quarter are utter arseholes, but they're not _evil_. They're perpetuated by their own House image to act in a certain way.'

The branch he sat on dipped a fraction. Harry's head jerked to the side. Cassy was perched on the limb almost within arm's distance.

'What else did you learn?' she asked.

'That a lot of the things you do that I like bother me about them, but it's just because they're not you and probably because it's different from the people around me that I assume it's always something sinister. You're actually a lot like them in ambition, without the whole being a bullying, arrogant, sociopath thing some of them have going on.' Harry swore for a second he saw her smile. 'Just because you come from that sort of background doesn't mean you're responsible for them all. I know you see yourself in them, but you can only do so much before they have to make their own move. You can't fight this war for them, so it's useless to pressure yourself so much,' he continued, suddenly feeling more confident than he had in weeks.

'I know,' she said simply. Her legs swung lazily.

They sat there for a time with only the sounds of the Quidditch pitch interrupting the gentle rustling of the leaves high in the trees. Pink tentacles rose to the surface of the dark lake and the Giant Squid emerged to bask in the afternoon sun overhead.

'I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't just talk to me about all of this, that I made you think I wouldn't be interested,' he said softly, ' and I'm sorry I pushed you so far that you broke up with me.'

He did not know why he was apologising. The silence was driving him slowly insane, but he did not know what he expected her to respond with. What could she possibly say?

'I do not recall ever breaking up with you.'

Harry stiffened and his head slowly turned towards her, carefully and measured, as though moving too quickly would prove the sound unreal. She was looking at him from the corner of her eyes again, her voice far more confident than the twinge of expression her steeled face was beginning to let through. He stared, wide-eyed.

'Good,' he said at last, 'because I don't recall ever agreeing to that.'

Cassy scoffed and tilted her head to the sky. 'I don't think it's the time of thing you get to agree on.'

'I wouldn't accept such a thing anyway,' he said.

If a smile began to break across their faces, neither mentioned it. Cassy turned her head, shying away from him, through her legs were still kicking and he could tell from the way she hunched her shoulders that she was not angry with him. She turned to look at him again with a hand running over her face.

'I have to apologise too. I never intended to let it get as bad as it did. I thought everything would sort itself out and I just lost control of my mouth for a split second. I never meant to make it sound like I was through with us – I just did not know how to face it when I had calmed down. Then when you walked straight by me that Friday, I thought for certain you were done with me.'

Harry hopped off the branch. He moved towards her, pushed her dangling knees apart and stepped closer; his long arms wrapped around her small waist and his head was suddenly burrowed in the crook of her neck.

'I love you,' he said, muffled, but so clearly that Cassy's heart fluttered wildly and without doubt. She wrapped her arms around his back, letting one hand wander up to stroke his messy hair she adored so dearly.

'I love you too,' she said.

'I'm so sorry, Cass, I'm so sorry.'

She ducked her head to nestle her nose in his black hair. She knew he was. She could see from the ache on his face when she had stood before him that he was not over her yet, not like she had feared he was. She had spent so much time trying to avoid looking at him, that she had ended up seeking him out in each and every room, just so she knew where not to look, and if her eyes lingered a moment too long, then she would deny it to even herself. Her anger faded within a few days of it all and had already faded to hollow sadness when Hermione had whispered to her one night that Harry had burnt the book.

Her heart clenched when he did not seek her out the next day to tell her, to attempt to sort things out. It broke a little bit more when she watched him flow past her as she spoke to the Slytherins, his eyes never once turning to acknowledge her. She thought she had lost him then for sure, when he made no efforts to seek her out as he always had.

She knew she should have made the first step, but suddenly he was nowhere to be found. Harry had the Marauder's Map and it felt wrong to steal it from his trunk when the two were not even so much as looking at one another. She did not see him and even when she looked, he seemed to have hidden himself very well in some distant corner of the castle. When she had asked Hermione, the other returned with a simple request that Cassy not ask her again. Whatever was going on, Hermione wanted nothing to do with it and that meant to Cassy that Hermione would have been placing herself between herself and Harry if she were to act. She could not ask her to do that, so Cassy remained silent and searching for his form in every lesson. Once or twice she thought she saw him shuffling through the library, but when she peered around the corner, he was never in sight. She put it all down to wishful thinking.

Despite trying very much to force herself to accept that she had ruined their relationship with her outburst, Cassy could not help but feel the need to act when Astoria and Stephen had come to her with a ludicrous story about Harry and Shandy's upcoming duel. They were so adamant about it with the former being a Housemate and the latter being his best friend, that Cassy knew she had a short time to seek Harry out and dissuade him from such a stupid act. Harry was good, but Shandy did not fight fair.

As she breathed in the faint vanilla of Harry's shampoo, she knew that the story had been a lie, but she had never been happier to be lied to.

* * *

 **Wow! I can't believe their fight was so well received!**

 **So, their fight didn't last long, but I think this consolidates their relationship a bit more. I wanted Harry to try and put himself in Cassy's shoes and see where it took him. While he's a bit more aware that there is no good/evil divide within society, he still kind of hates what they do and that's fine. It will take a little more than three weeks to destroy that kind of animosity, considering it took Snape's death and Draco and Narcissa's change of allegiance in the book. However, I feel like we're a little bit closer.**

 **I promise at some point I will have this grammatically combed like I normally do, but right now I'm too exhausted from writing this entire chapter today to be able to read it any more! This is actually a rewrite of the a chapter I wrote a long time back as their resolve. This required a lot less apologising and a lot more proving to someone that you see their point.**

 **Let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks!**


	26. The Tower

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XXVI: The Tower**

Cassy had doubts over who was happier that she and Harry had worked things out, them or Hermione. They walked into the common room amidst the loud celebrations of Gryffindor holding hands. Hermione's keen eyes singled in on them immediately, having located them across the room before Cassy had even had a chance to comprehend that they must have won their final Quidditch match.

Unbound and untroubled by the throng of giggling bodies in her way, she leapt at Cassy and Harry. Her arms wound tightly around their necks, unbalanced by the stark difference in the pair's heights.

'Oh thank God,' she cried, 'I was going out of my mind!'

Cassy tried to wrestle her hand from Harry's grip to push the emotional girl away, but Harry held tightly and Cassy was forced to endure another painful minute of the crushing embrace.

'Hermione, if you cry on me, I swear - ' she began, but trailed off as another set of brown eyes peeked through the chanting crowd. From ear to ear, Neville beamed. Cassy rolled her eyes to the ceiling and Harry simply laughed.

As June emerged, Harry continued his detentions with Professor Snape. He had conjured a story to cover the reason for his long series of detentions and Professor Snape did not contest it, despite his twisted face clearly mangling with the desire to out all of Harry's wrongdoings. In recompense, he was harder than ever in class on him; his insults were not even thinly veiled anymore, but open, snide and demeaning. Professor McGonagall had loudly argued with him in the corridor after a series of complaints from Harry's fellow sixth-years, but it did not stop the treatment.

'I'm still hoping that one-year curse holds true,' said Ron as he slung his bag over his shoulder and they filed from the gloomy classroom one day. 'Imagine if he died. Do you think we could persuade Lupin to come back?'

The sun beamed brightly through every window of the castle. It was inescapable. As exams drew ever closer, Ginny and Luna disappeared more and more often as they stowed away in distant corners of the castle with students from their own year to revise for their OWLs. Every so many hours, one would appear with a query or to ask for a tip, but for the most part they did their revision and Cassy, Harry, Neville, and Hermione were left to theirs. Although Sixth year exams only counted for a small portion of the grade overall, a maximum of thirty-percent, they still studied as dutifully as they did the previous year, at least, Cassy and Hermione did, for Harry's attention drifted as it always did and Neville dipped in and out of motivation as fear and apathy spiralled through his system.

Exams began in the second week of June. With the significant decrease in subjects to study, even Hermione managed to tear herself away from revision long enough to rummage through the old archives of the library in search of who the Prince could really be. It was not long before she came back with a newspaper clipping and the name "Eileen Prince". Harry dismissed it, adamant the Half-Blood Prince was a man. Cassy cast the pair a lazy look as they argued, she had been midway through helping Harry revise for his Potions exam. While he was capable of holding up the charade of being a genius now that Cassy moved back to his table in class to help him cheat, he was unable to remember much beyond what was in the syllabus. Although, he certainly recalled much more with Professor Slughorn's haphazard, lively teaching style than he ever did with Professor Snape's regimented one.

'I can just tell he's a guy,' defended Harry.

Hermione cast a flat look over his head towar Cassy. Cassy flashed her eyebrows in return and that seemed agreement enough for Hermione that Harry was wrong.

It solved nothing, however, and they continued to feud about the Prince's real identity all through the exam period. Cassy, who had no particular interest in his real name, tuned them out and marvelled at Neville's ability to do the same.

'It's from being around so much nonsense for so long,' he explained one lunch. 'Besides, some of your attitude has rubbed off on me, I guess.'

'The confidence, I hope,' she said.

'More my intolerance of doing nothing when I could be doing something, but if you ask Hermione she'll say I've got a bit of your hard-headedness,' he said with a wink.

Cassy was not even remotely offended. She hummed, 'I'm glad. That means you will not cry on me as you did in first year.'

Neville whined, but to his credit, he did not blush. 'You'd still be helping me find Trevor every week if I hadn't lost him to the Black Lake.'

'I'm thankful for that every day.'

Neville snorted.

When their exams had ended, there was an instant lull in activity. All of the carefully planned and ordered periods of the day suddenly ceased to be. For the sixth-years, there were almost two whole weeks free before the end of the term. For Ginny and Luna, that was not the case.

'This is ridiculous,' moaned Ginny as the threw down her notes and dug the palms of her hands into her eyes.

'We did it last year,' retorted Hermione calmly.

Ginny frowned and cast a hand out to wave madly. 'Yeah, but you guys didn't have anyone looking like the epitome of a holiday over there!' Her eyes were jokingly locked onto Cassy and Harry, who occupied the long sofa. Cassy lay on the plush, scarlet seat, a book hovering above her head and her arms folded comfortably over her stomach. Her feet rested in Harry's lap at the other end of the sofa. A Quidditch book lay over her feet and Harry's own legs were stretched to be perched on the coffee table in front of the fire. Bright, crinkled wrappers surrounded them.

Cassy cast Harry a disdainful eye. 'I would not holiday with a free-loader.'

Harry shrugged. 'If you didn't want me to eat them, you wouldn't have brought them downstairs.'

'I brought it down because I wanted to eat them.'

'Don't even pretend like this is even half your chocolate hoard. It's like a quarter, at most,' snorted Harry.

Cassy smirked, but neither agreed nor denied the claim. Disregarding her comment entirely, Harry reached over and plucked another Chocolate Frog from the pile between Cassy's knee and the sofa back.

'You know, I swear that pile is moving closer and closer to you,' she commented with narrowed eyes.

Harry reached over and put a hand flat against her forehead. Cassy's eyebrows rose in confusion.

'You're delirious!' he announced loudly. 'It's poison from too much chocolate! I'll have to take these all away.'

'I am not a dog!'

Neville, Hermione, and Ginny laughed as Cassy squatted Harry's hands away from her and her chocolate. She grinned and ripped the book from the air, swinging it back with a threat Harry was only too ready to provoke. He hurled a box of Bertie Bott's at her and she batted it away and over towards Neville. The disgusting beans flooded out from the poorly sealed top. They bounced beneath the furniture and gave a breath of vibrant colour to the fire as a couple slipped in. Harry picked up another one.

Before he could launch it, however, a throat cleared behind them.

Lurking at the back of the sofa, a young blond boy stood with a letter in his outstretched hand. 'It's from Professor Dumbledore for you, Harry.'

'Thanks, Jimmy!' said Harry quickly, snatching the letter from his hands. Everyone went silent and Peaks wandered off without a word as the atmosphere around the five Gryffindors began to crackle with excitement and anticipation. Harry ripped the sealed parchment open and his eyes scanned the inked words with unnatural speed.

'Is it?' asked Hermione vaguely; she was desperate to know if it was finally the letter inviting Harry out to hunt for Horcruxes, but they were all very aware of the demanded secrecy and Ginny's presence. Ginny seemed to be aware that it was something she was not to know, having noticed how the evening lessons had stopped, but she still craned her neck to peek at the short sentence.

'He wants me to see him in his office,' said Harry briefly. He leapt from the sofa just as Cassy swung her feet from his lap. He paused only to kiss Cassy good-bye and she murmured "luck luck". The door swung shut and none of the other occupants of the common room seemed any wiser to the great event that was very likely to occur in a few short minutes.

Questions visibly bubbled in the eyes of Cassy's friends and she knew they were all asking what her own mind was erratically asking. If Harry was going right then, where was he going? Would it just be him and Professor Dumbledore? When would he be back? What danger would they face? Would he be alright when he returned?

Cassy's mind loitered on the end result of the task, because, really, she wondered, how would they destroy the Horcrux without risking a limb as Professor Dumbledore had done? Her head tilted thoughtfully. The diary had been destroyed by a Basilisk fang.

'I don't see why I can't know.'

Cassy looked up at Ginny's scowling face, her theories filed away for another time.

'Because Professor -' began Hermione.

'I know, I know,' sighed Ginny, 'It's because I'm younger than you all, isn't it? You'll all be seventeen soon and able to join the Order. If I know the ins and out they worry I'm going to be a liability.'

Neville shook his head and Ginny sighed again, her face set firmly. 'I'm not going to ask, don't worry. I just... I just wish I knew so I don't feel as though you're all creeping around me all the time.'

'Oh, Ginny, we're not,' said Neville sweetly.

'You all look worried, except for Cassy, you looked like you were testing if a gnome could escape a paper bag,' said Ginny, her tone lightening to a tease.

Cassy quirked an eyebrow as Neville and Hermione laughed.

'And what expression does one have when watching a gnome escape a paper bag?' she asked.

'Kinda curious, kinda morbid,' shrugged Ginny. She laughed as Cassy rolled her eyes and for a while, the discussion of Harry's mysterious summoning was cast aside. A few minutes later, Ron, Dean, and Seamus entered from the library and moved to the fireplace, occupying the vacant seats beside Cassy. Ron perched on the arm of Hermione's chair. There was tension between Ginny and Dean, though neither tried to show it. They had never quite been friends to begin with, so when their relationship ended they were left with nothing more than acquaintances through friends of their own. It was nothing compared to the almost audible tension that still existed between Ron and Lavender, which had transferred much in part to Hermione and Lavender. By association, Lavender was cold towards Cassy too, but the two had never been inclined to one another anyway.

Dean and Seamus played several rounds of exploding snap, before Dean swapped places with Neville and he versed Seamus instead. Ginny quickly lost interest in her revision and declared herself the next to face the winner of their match. She had just swapped seats with Neville, Seamus remained the champion, when the portrait swung open noisily and Harry darted back through the room. He did not stop to talk and was suddenly out of sight upstairs in his dormitory. Cassy, Neville, Hermione, and Ginny each exchanged wary expressions.

Only Cassy stood. She lingered several feet from the staircase entrance and listened as Harry's feet thundered back down the swirling staircase. He flew back into sight and stepped around her with reflexive grace, saving them both from crashing to the floor. Immediately, his hands shot up to grip her shoulders, the Invisibility Cloak slung over his arm.

'It's happening tonight,' he rushed. 'Trelawney said she heard a boy celebrating in the Room of Requirements, whatever he needed to fix, he has. Rustle up the DA members and be on guard, use the coins, patrol around, no one will be expecting that.' He reached into his robe pocket. 'Use the potion just in case, spread it out between you guys and Luna.'

By now, all of their friends were watching with tensed shoulders and baited breath.

'What room did she ask for?' murmured Cassy calmly.

Harry's eyes widened a fraction. He whispered, 'Where things are hidden. I love you.'

'I love you too, stay safe,' she said.

'I'm with Dumbledore, nothing will happen,' he said before he ducked down and his lips met hers firmly. There was a lot of things Cassy read from that kiss, the most overwhelming was worry and she spared a thought that perhaps Harry knew her too well, but there was also pride and it glistened in his eyes. Yes, she decided, he certainly knew her too well. 'Be careful.'

'When am I not?'

He grunted, something between a laugh and a whine.

'Harry,' cut in Hermione fretfully. 'You need that potion more than we do.'

'No,' he denied adamantly, 'I'll be fine. Make sure someone keeps an eye on Snape too, okay? I've got to go.'

'Where's he going?' asked Ron as everyone shot into action the moment Harry vanished around the corner. There was a flurry of movement as Hermione raced upstairs to get the Dumbledore's Army master coin, as Ginny sprung from her seat with her wand drawn, and as Neville hurriedly put his shoes back on.

'What's going on?' asked Dean, confused.

'You heard him,' said Ginny. 'We've got to patrol the castle.'

'But why? What was he on about?' questioned Seamus; a wary frown made its way onto his long face.

'Ginny,' called Cassy. She tossed the bottle of molten liquid to the other girl. 'Share it out like Harry said. I will meet you all later.'

'Wait, what about you?' yelled Neville, but Cassy did not stop to answer. She shot from the common room and sprinted down the corridor towards the set of marble staircases. Harry knew what she was planning, that she wanted to try and cut Malfoy off before whatever he was doing could be relayed to Voldemort. If she could get into the Room of Requirement, then she might be able to stop him moving the device, or even destroy it. Whatever it was, he had been desperate to fix it, which meant Voldemort was most likely equally desperate to see it done.

Despite the common room and the Room of Requirement being on the same floor, there was a frustrating lack of pathways to get there. The corridors did not extend from one end the level to the other and instead a maze of up and down staircases created the only pathway to the other end of the castle. It had never been so thwarting before, but Cassy now did not have the time to wait for the steps to swing around to collect her to cross the gap. The late hour meant that not many students lingered on the staircases and few teachers patrolled to stop her making the precarious and dangerous leaps between the still moving steps over the seventy-foot drop down to the entrance hall below. When close enough, she jumped from one staircase to the railings of the seventh-floor, the proper entrance another two twirling staircases away. She gripped the smooth marble tightly and hauled herself up with impressive speed, for no matter how much she would deny it to her family, she did indeed climb up a lot of trees and out of a lot of windows in her childhood and knew the tactics for a successful endeavour very well.

It was a waste of time and Cassy pushed her legs harder to make up for the infuriating loss. She tore down the corridors and skidded to a stop outside a blank stretch of wall. Breathing deeply, she concentrated her thoughts.

I need the room where things are hidden, she silently commanded, show me the room where things are hidden.

After a few slow seconds, the wall began to shift. A single wooden door appeared in the centre.

Cassy pulled out her wand.

With the door open the barest inch, a slow, repetitive wiring met her ears. A short sound played, the beginning of words that suddenly stopped and was followed by a sharp noise as the sound began again. It caught over and over again and the sound of the old gramophone echoed out into the corridor faintly. Light did not flood from the room. It was not encased in darkness either, but rather a faint gloomy light that tinged everything it touched in an autumn orange. Great shadows crept across the floors and up the towering stacks of objects. The piles allowed for a narrow pathway between them, curving and curling in crooked circles. The whining song echoed from the high, arched ceiling, the peaks invisible in the utter darkness that gave Cassy the impression there was no real ceiling, only as much room as would ever be needed to continue to fill the room.

She gazed around with sharp, observing eyes. Slowly and carefully, she began a purposeful creep through the isles. Her ears strained to hear over the gramophone. She did not know what it was she was looking for.

Books lay in heaps, dog-eared and dusty; broomsticks stood huddled together; drawers stuffed with paper, yellowed and torn as people added more to the pile over the decades; jewellery glittered in the flickering light from one of the low chandeliers; a birdcage hung high and empty.

Even when Cassy came across the gramophone, she did not take the needle off the disk. If anyone was present, they would know she was too. However, it made listening for movement much more difficult and time passed quickly without a body in sight. It became increasingly possible that Malfoy had already left and she had missed him. She knew whatever he had had to fix he had not wished to carry out in the street and would most likely not wish to be seen with it in the castle. That meant there was a good chance it was still in the room, yet she was still at a loss as what it could be.

It was then that she rounded a corner and halted. Her eyes were fixed upon a tall, varnished cabinet. It was a cabinet identical to the one she had seen in Borgin and Burkes many months ago.

'Good God,' she muttered. Malfoy intended to bring the Death Eaters into the castle. He had been fixing one-half of a pair.

She raised her wand.

'Who's there?' The voice echoed sharply and before she could destroy the cabinet, she flung a curse straight down the centre of the aisle.

A dark figure darted behind a wardrobe as the spell hit the tower of objects and sent a landslide of books and cauldrons tumbling down. She swung back around to the cabinet, wand raised again. A heavy weight collided with her side, she had been blindsided by the need to destroy the cabinet as quickly as possible that she had not anticipated the figure that descended from the top of the nearest stack. She tumbled to the ground, her hand reflexively gripping the other's throat, his own hand forced her wand-arm flat to the floor.

'What are you doing here?' demanded Malfoy, his grey eyes blazing like lightning amongst storm clouds.

'Stopping you killing everyone,' she snapped back, squeezing his neck. Her nails dug into the soft flesh around his oesophagus. He winced, but did not recoil.

'You don't understand.' Each of his words became progressively weaker as she continued to tighten her grip with every second he did not relent his own grip on her.

'There are eleven-year-olds in this castle and you have invited Death Eaters here! Do you want them to meet Fenrir Greyback? Do you want them to be cursed to live a half-life? To die so young?' she sneered and struggled beneath him. Malfoy had one of his shins heavily weighted across her thighs, pinning it down and the other was in no position to kick effectively.

He paled. He paled further when his eyes flickered up to the cabinet behind him. Cassy seized the moment to twist the wand with her long fingers to grasp it awkwardly and unnaturally. A blue jet of light shot forth, knocking Malfoy from above her and sent him rolling towards the cabinet. She twirled the wand in her fingers and rushed to stand. He wasted no time doing the same. His own wand was clenched tightly in his fist, his knuckles white.

'Cassy,' he said forcefully, 'get out.'

'No,' she bit back.

'Please.'

The word took her by surprise. It was still forceful, yet pleading now. It was a short exhale that sounded desperate, his eyes begging her to leave in a complete change of emotions. His eyebrows were upturned, his face crumpled in a way she had not seen directed at her in so long; she did not understand.

'What - ' she began, but her words fell short when the cabinet rattled noisily.

Malfoy hissed and charged at her. Before she could protest, he had taken her by the arm and dragged her away in only a few short steps. Her eyes remained fixed on the cabinet as a faint pop emitted from within until her view was obscured by a tattered pine door.

'Get in,' he hissed and shoved her inside the wardrobe. Urgently, he ripped his cloak from atop his shirt and flung in on top of her before swinging the door shut. She pulled it off her face, scowling, but made no other movements. She could hear footsteps.

'Draco?' called a voice, high and song-like.

The next footsteps that she heard moved away from the wardrobe.

'Aunt Bella, you got my letter then?' said Malfoy.

Cassy tensed.

Bellatrix did not immediately respond. 'This is exciting, isn't it? Your first mission for the Dark Lord almost complete.' There was a tone of pride in her voice, the kind a parent might have when their child took its first steps.

'Are the others coming?' questioned Malfoy.

'Any minute now,' sang Bellatrix.

Cassy gripped her wand tightly. She could see nothing from within the wardrobe. Cold, uneven, wood lay beneath her, her neck was forced at an awkward angle from the careless way Malfoy had shoved her inside. She dared not move right then for how many Death Eaters might be joining her cousins were an impossible guess. She was not foolish enough to think she could take on a mob by herself, not when that mob contained Bellatrix.

The door opened again and Cassy strained her ears. A low, gruff growl followed.

'Someone's been here. I can smell them.'

She held her breath. She knew she had been right not to dare show herself. The only person worse than Bellatrix, besides Voldemort, was Fenrir Greyback and be had made a very displeased arrival. Despite commanding herself to remain calm, Cassy could not stop her heart pounding in her chest. Although already encased in total darkness, she closed her eyes to focus on his heavy footfalls. They thudded evenly - _one, two, three, four –_ slow and deliberate. She could envision his head tilted back – _five, six, seven, eight –_ his nose in the air, inhaling her scent as he drew closer.

Cassy pulled the cloak higher around her neck.

'I checked the room,' said Malfoy quickly. 'No one is here, not after that bumbling divination teacher entered earlier, but I got rid of her easily enough.'

Greyback emitted a dull hum – _nine, ten, eleven, twelve –_ and stepped passed the wardrobe doors. Cassy's dared not breath, her lungs protested with a dull burn, but she held still, her eyes now open and focusing on the place she knew the centre of the doors to be.

'I can smell her everywhere,' he said lowly.

'She was wandering around trying to find somewhere to hide her sherry bottles,' scoffed Malfoy. 'I spooked her by knocking over that pile over there and she went running.'

Bellatrix let out a piercing cackle. 'Oh, I can give her a proper spook.'

Cassy breathed out into the thick material of Malfoy's Slytherin cloak.

There was another faint pop and the doors opened again. It was only when the Death Eaters began to greet one another that she dared shift to a more comfortable position, slowly and carefully. She counted what could possibly have been nine or ten pops of the Vanishing Cabinet and heard at least seven distinct voices. She did not recognise any beyond the first two entries; Lucius was still in prison.

'So, is Dumbledore in his office?' demanded a woman.

'It doesn't matter where he is now, but where we are is where he will be sooner or later,' said a man calmly. 'He'll come for us and when he does...'

He never finished his sentence, but Cassy assumed a gesture was shared because Bellatrix let out an excited squeal. 'What are we waiting for? Let's go find that old fool!'

Cassy was almost relieved. They had no idea he was not in the castle, but that also meant they would tear through the school until they found him.

'Wait,' called one. 'He might be an old fool, but he's still one of the most powerful wizards of all time.' There was a collective round of hisses. 'I mean it. We need a plan, somewhere to lure him to so he can be dealt with with limited interference.'

The woman spoke again, 'If you're so clever, where are you thinking?'

The other man was silent for a moment. 'The Astronomy Tower. Gibbon, you lure him there and when he arrives, we'll up surprise him from below.'

'What?' splutter Gibbon loudly. 'Why me?'

'Oh, don't complain,' hissed Bellatrix. 'Lure him with our Master's sign, that should bring him quickly and you know how that's always an honour to cast.' There was a threat veiled in her quietly murmured words, a threat that dared anyone to disagree with her, to argue that any action in the servitude of Lord Voldemort was any less than the highest honour.

Gibbon grunted, but he said no more. There was a short silence and for a time. Cassy could not even hear the shifting of clothing.

'What's that hand for, kid?' asked another Death Eater suddenly.

'Just in case,' said Malfoy and Cassy frowned, trying to think of what he could mean.

As though the words shocked them all to life, there was a sudden bustle of movement. No words were exchanged, but Cassy could envision the shared smirks and wicked grins upon their faces as they approached the exit. They must have been planning the break-in all year. To them, it was never a matter of if, but when, and they had had all the time they could possibly have needed to prepare for their attack. It struck Cassy as strange that they should not have a plan already decided upon. A thought struck her mind that it could be a red-herring, a diversion for her to send the staff in the wrong direction and allow them to attack. She dismissed it. They certainly would have killed her. Bellatrix was quite desperate to eradicate the unsavoury members of her maiden House from existence.

They had no plan, she realised, stunned. No matter how inevitable the event of the invasion was, they had not prepared at all. As long as the task was completed, they did not care what happened to the others, as long as they lived themselves. They were just going to get rid of any obstacle as and when it approached. That meant students, that meant staff, and that certainly meant exceeding and alarming levels of unpredictability.

'Malfoy!' The roar was loud and accusing and followed by whizzes and bangs of exchanging spells. Cassy burst from the wardrobe just in time to see the last dark cloak of a Death Eater vanish into a cloud of thick, black smoke. Coughs and gasps of air were silenced by the Room of Requirement swinging its door closed. Cassy was left with only silence.

Whilst aware that her friends were most likely outside, for she was sure she had heard Ron's shout, there was something she knew she needed to take care of first. The Vanishing Cabinet exploded. It shattered into shards of wood that spread across the floor and turned to dust before it could even touch the ground. It was completely irreparable. She made sure of it.

Held loosely in her left hand was Malfoy's cloak; he had known Greyback would be able to smell her and yet he had shielded her smell, protected her even up to the last minute. She clenched the material tightly and then threw it aside.

The corridor outside was still black. The dense smoke had yet to settle and no Lumos or wind charm could move it. She knew the hand Malfoy possessed now, the one to create light for the holder and him alone. Knowing she had little time to waste, Cassy placed her left hand on the wall and with quick steps moved into the darkness. The smoke choked her lungs, agitated her throat and burnt her eyes. She refused to lower her wand, despite knowing that if she smothered her nose and mouth with her robe sleeve it would ease the discomfort; she could hear voices up ahead and could not distinguish if they were friend or foe. As the smoke thinned, she viciously flung her arm out, wand pointed at the first shape she saw.

'Ow!' cried a voice.

'Neville?' called Cassy, stepping forward quickly but warily.

'Cassy!' exclaimed Ginny, her face framed by her flaming red hair. 'Where did you come from?'

Cassy's eyes flicked to Neville, where he was clutching his throat where she had harshly jabbed it accidentally. 'I was in the Room of Requirement. Did you take it?'

'The Liquid Luck? Yeah, we've all had some, we weren't sure if you'd had any before you ran off,' she said.

Satisfied they were who they appeared to be, Cassy waved her hand dismissively, choosing not to admit she had not. It would only worry them and between the five of them already there was surely none left and Cassy did not want them to fuss over that guilt. They needed to alert the staff.

'You need to get to Professor McGonagall,' she said, taking charge, 'to alert the Order.'

'What about you?' asked Ron.

'The Death Eaters are heading upstairs to the Astronomy Tower,' she said quickly. 'They think Professor Dumbledore is still in the castle.'

'I'll go with you,' said Neville immediately.

'You can't go to face them alone!' barked Ginny.

Cassy launched into a run down the corridor. Several curses echoed around her as her friends raced to catch up. Confident they were right behind her, she said, 'I am not going to confront them. I just want to make sure they do not wander. We have to split up'

There was no sign of the Death Eaters down the corridors, no unnecessary destruction, no students lying face-down on the stone. In fact, there appeared to be no trace of them at all. It was only when Cassy turned the final corner before the staircases that she saw another face at all.

A wand was pointed between her eyes. Her own wand was pointed at the centre of a bobbled, green cardigan.

'Who is Blackjack?' she demanded.

Neville, Ginny, and Ron had skidded to a halt behind her. Their own wands were drawn, although they looked uncertain of where it should be pointing.

'Sirius,' said Remus without hesitation.

Cassy lowered her wand and Remus did the same.

'Why are you all out here?' he questioned, a light frown crumpling his scarred face.

'Death Eaters are heading towards the Astronomy Tower right now,' said Cassy bluntly.

'What?'

'We saw them,' said Neville urgently. 'Cassy heard their plans.'

Remus' shoulders tensed. Suddenly, a silvery-white mist surrounded him. The tendrils danced like stems of flowers in a spring breeze before they wove together and a huge wolf appeared beside him. Without so much as a prance or a howl, the wolf shot over the railings and down the amidst the slowly moving staircases, his paws never touching the ground. Remus then turned, a hand cupped to his mouth.

'Minerva!' he bellowed.

Not more than five tense seconds later, Professor McGonagall emerged from a nearby corner.

'Send for the others,' Remus instructed. His command needed no further explanation. In an instant, she vanished back the way she had come.

'What did you hear?' Remus rounded on Cassy expectantly.

'The plan is to lure Professor Dumbledore to the Astronomy Tower by casting the Dark Mark. There, they intend to kill him when he is alone,' she reported.

The muscles of Remus' jaw clenched tightly. 'How did they get in?'

'The Room of Requirement. Borgin and Burkes had the second half to an old Vanishing cabinet.'

He cursed. Darting, his eyes surveyed the area surrounding them.

'What are you doing here?' asked Ron.

'Albus thought some extra defences were needed while he was gone,' answered Remus absently. He turned, as though hearing something they could not. A second later, Sirius and Tonks skidded into sight. Remus merely nodded grimly at them and they both tightened their grips on their wands.

'Where?' demanded Tonks shortly.

'The Astronomy Tower,' replied Remus.

Tonks turned her gaze to the slowly moving staircases, eyeing the best path upwards.

It was only a moment later that Professor McGonagall and Bill emerged from another corner not far away. The elderly witch blew out a deep breath, but the expanded group wasted no time in setting off. The staircases were frozen by the Deputy Headmaster in the most convenient pathway. They ran, skipping over the false steps and avoiding the disappearing barriers like a second nature. On their way, the tiny form of Professor Flitwick was caught in the run as he patrolled the upper floor. With a squeak, he bustled back the way they had come to collect Professor Snape to help in their efforts.

Cassy's stomach twisted at the idea. She said nothing, not knowing where she believed his loyalties to lie.

Ahead of them was a cloaked figure. Behind him were several more, almost invisible in the darkness of the inner corridor. Their feet were positioned on the stairs, ready to turn and run but they had stalled. It was only the pale light of the moon that glimmered from around the corner that allowed Cassy to count the four Death Eaters that loitered still so far from the Astronomy Tower entrance. A further fifth figure stood amongst them, pale-faced with shoulders hunched and looking small amongst the older bodies.

Sirius fired first.

There were no shouts to halt, to leave the castle peacefully, or to announce their presence at all. The grey stream from his wand struck one man in the back and he crumpled to the floor noiselessly. The others spun with their own wands flashing with blinding lights. They retaliated, spreading like starlings at dusk to fill the space the wide corridor allowed. A purple flame flickered and died as it collided with the stone wall, but not before a glimpse of pale skin and amber eyes flashed through the darkness.

Cassy hissed and sidestepped Fenrir Greyback. Her back flattened against the stone. The red lapel of her Gryffindor robe tore as his nails sliced through the thick material like a knife through flesh. In an instant, Remus was at her side. He shoved her back, his body protectively in front of her own; his free hand was splayed openly at his side, ready to catch her if she tried to protest his movement.

Greyback twisted on the spot, still stooped and with a broad grin pulling at his scarred cheeks. His teeth were still long despite his human form. He eyed Remus from head to toe and laughed. He lunged.

There was no time to concentrate on their fight, for as soon as Cassy glanced over her shoulder she saw another figure standing upon the stairs. Slender with sleek, dark hair. A long, crooked wand was held by her side. Bellatrix grinned when Cassy's spell crashed into one of her own. Without hesitation, Bellatrix skipped down the remaining steps and levelled opposite Cassy, who had leapt from the fray to face her.

It occurred a few seconds too late that she was very much alone against Bellatrix. She had been before and she was now, though she was better this time, more capable and more prepared. There was less worry of her deranged relative jaunting to kill one of her injured or unarmed friends this time too. As she dodged, she carefully listened to the battles behind her. She moved back as Bellatrix stepped forward until she could determine the shrieks and the yells and gauge their distance; she knew she had some way between her and Remus.

Somewhere behind her, Malfoy yelped. The low tones of a fierce snarl followed, but Cassy could not discern the words. She was concentrating on attacking Bellatrix's feet to stop her erratic movements. Her eyes sharpened. Bellatrix favoured her left foot, despite always putting her right first.

Another whiz shot by Cassy's ear, yellow and crackling. A quick glance to her right and Professor McGonagall appeared at her side. Her lips were drawn thinly.

'We were having a lovely family moment!' whined Bellatrix and stomped her foot like a petulant child. She chortled at the grave disdain on the teacher's face.

Never taking her eyes from the other before her, Cassy parted her lips to mutter: 'Go for her left side.'

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows flickered down for a brief second before they settled back into a pose of deep contempt. Wordlessly, she agreed to the instructions and a whirl of lightning struck from the tip of her wand. Bellatrix's flames became daggers, projected back at her; her spells hit well-practised shields; her taunts became snaps as she failed to land any blows. A clean cut pulled the flowing fabric of her sleeve apart, revealing a thin yet deep cut on the pale skin. No one was sure quite who put it there, but Bellatrix did not like it at all.

'Bill!'

The cry was high and loud. It tore through the din like a nail through paper.

'Get off him!' screamed Tonks, her words half hidden beneath a feral growl. 'Remus, no!'

One growl became two. Cassy had no idea what had happened and yet she could not turn around. Her attention was pulled towards a shadow in the moonlight. Far above where Bellatrix stood a man descended, his hair wild and his wand waving. A jet of green light spurted carelessly from the end, again and again. Bellatrix turned to sneer at him, snapping demands for him to be careful, but he paid her no attention and another vivid green jet left his wand.

Cassy did not dodge. A stone block was quickly conjured to take the impact - she dared not move in case she left someone else vulnerable behind her. Many curses shot by and in the midst of it, Bellatrix look of back the way she had came. Malfoy followed as he broke away from where he had been duelling Ginny and many of the Death Eaters saw the threat of Avada Kedavra as a perfect cover to retreat.

'Cowards!' Ron bellowed.

The curse was suddenly aimed at him, but it never connected. Before anyone could react, a Death Eater further ahead stumbled, his arm scraped the spell and he dropped heavily to the floor. The man paled and stepped backwards. He tripped up the steps and vanished around the spiral staircase towards the Astronomy Tower.

Neville charged forwards, wand raised. Professor McGonagall's outstretched arm could not reign him back before he smacked noisily onto the floor.

A barrier, identified Cassy as she stepped to help him up. She lay a hand gingerly on the surface. To her surprise, there was no shock or sudden pain. The invisible surface was simply cool beneath her palm.

'Oh my God, Bill!'

Ginny's scream was a reminder that there were more important things to attend to than the barrier.

Cassy could see his wounds from a distance; up close they were even worse. Bill's face was indistinguishable. Blood ran thick and fast from the torn flesh, his eyes closed and barely visible beneath the pooling crimson. Ginny sniffed. She was unable to hold back the flood of emotion that brought tears to her eyes, but they fell no further. Ron's knuckles turned white as his pale skin stretched in an effort not to turn and charge in revenge for his brother. He wretches as Sirius pulled back a flap of loose skin on Bill's chin.

'He's alive,' he announced, shoulders relaxing.

A thankful sob left Ginny and Ron dared to step closer, sinking to his knees beside Bill.

The relief was short-lived. Everyone twisted at the sound of oncoming footsteps, wands raised and ready to attack. At the far end of the corridor, opposite to the Astronomy Tower, Professor Snape burst into view. He ignored Professor McGonagall's grateful greeting and her warning not to approach the barrier. Her words fell short, trailing into silence as without a second thought he passed straight through. Before a word was exchanged, he was gone.

'Cassy,' said Sirius, 'are you alright?'

Cassy turned and nodded to her father whilst surveying him for injuries as he was doing to her. Satisfied he was healthy, she quickly returned to the barrier, muttering as she waved her wand up and down the transparent wall.

'Is anyone hurt?' asked Professor McGonagall, quickly sweeping her eyes over her four Gryffindors. Besides a scratch on Neville's leg and a bruise on Ginny's jaw, they were all unscathed. 'Go to the Tower now. Make sure no one exits.'

'I am part of this Order,' retorted Cassy.

'You're a student and my responsibility,' she returned.

'They intend to kill Professor Dumbledore,' said Neville flatly, 'we're not going anywhere.'

Cassy really thought he has spent too much time with her, answering back with such finality.

Sirius joined her at the barrier, mumbling also. Nothing they did seemed to break it. Cassy had never studied the Dark Mark before, she did not know the components necessary to make or break such a spell and she did not have the time to figure it out.

It was seconds later that footsteps echoed from above. Sirius needlessly flattened Cassy back against the wall as they threw themselves out of the line of fire as not only one but two men emerged, wands drawn and running. Professor Snape had Malfoy by the arm. Malfoy's face was ashen. His feet were always a second behind those of Professor Snape, being tugged and pulled as he failed to find his footing, the urgency to leave so powerful within him he could hardly move at all. Laughter followed, loud and cackling. Cassy knew then what had happened. As the Death Eaters emerged with wide smiles, she knew exactly what had happened.

'Draco!' she bellowed. Her voice was off-set by the cheerful cries of the enemy, the shouts from her friends and family, and the bangs and pops of rapidly flying curses. Malfoy heard her loud and clear, though; he suddenly found his feet and broke into a sprint.

She called after him again, dodging the body-binding hex Snape threw at her over his shoulder. No one noticed as she gave chase, too occupied with the Death Eaters to spare her a second thought. Cassy shielded her back from an incoming curse, the light bright against the marble stairs giving the sneak attack away. With a flick of her wand, Alecto Carrow sprawled onto the ground at the top of the corridor.

The staircase broke beneath Snape and Malfoy's feet. It shattered into a million pieces that scattered down to the entrance hall below like fine snow. The pair dropped heavily and caught themselves two floors below on another staircase. Cassy readied herself, preparing to disintegrate the steps again if they showed any sign of running. Snape did not give her the opportunity to do so, though. A curse as dark as the depths of the Black Lake skimmed past her ear.

'Your aim is off,' she goaded. She had hardly had to move.

The two fled down the steps and Cassy leapt off her own staircase to drop onto one beneath. She was only a staircase away when Snape and Malfoy finally hit the stone floor of the Entrance Hall. The spells they had exchanged on the way down had slowed their departure, but their hurriedness visibly increased when a voice pierced the air and echoed threateningly all around them.

'Snape!' it roared. 'You coward! He trusted you and you killed him!'

Above them and advancing fast was Harry. His face was twisted in unimaginable fury.

Cassy did not wait for him to draw close, just as Snape and Malfoy did not. The relief at seeing him unharmed was pushed back beneath the determination to give chase. She wanted to see the regret on Malfoy's face.

They were half way out on the grounds when she stopped running. Abruptly, she turned to face to voices that approached behind her as Snape shouted for Malfoy to run to the tree line. Harry passed her, stopping just short of her back and continued to shout at Snape. Cassy turned her attention from her pale-faced cousin to the approaching Death Eaters. Hagrid's home was on fire and Fang was tucked beneath his arm. The Death Eaters had circled the castle. Shattered glass and fractured stone lay in their wake.

'Septumsempra!'

The spell was easily deflected by Snape. A short blast of his own had Harry flung backwards; Cassy reached out to steady him, stumbling beneath his weight.

'Don't use my own spell against me, Potter.'

When they both looked up again, when she was confident he was fine, Snape was gone.

For a second, Cassy stood on the grassy slope, not a thought in her mind nor a word on her lips. Everything had happened so quickly. The silence was so consuming, so foreign, despite only mere minutes of madness. Deeply, she inhaled. When she released the breath, she had gathered her thoughts and turned her attention to the trembling body before her.

'Harry,' she said gently but firmly.

He looked away from the spot Snape had once occupied. For a moment, he simply stared down at her, before he said, 'He killed him. He trusted him and he killed him. Malfoy wasn't going to do it.' He began to sluggishly move back up to the castle.

The tall peak of the Astronomy Tower stood unoccupied, unlit save the acrid glow of the Dark Mark high in the night sky. They were no longer alone on the grounds. Bodies trailed from the giant double doors all around the side of the building in tiny clusters. Hesitant, they waited, stood back from the figure that lay on the stone. Tiny gaps and uncertain sobs filled the still air; no one even spoke as Cassy and Harry pushed through the students, they even parted for them without protest.

Slowly, Cassy sunk to her knees beside the Headmaster. His arms were bent, broken from the fall. Not far from his outstretched fingers was his wand. She slipped it into her pocket, making a note to be sure to give it to Professor McGonagall when they saw her next. Carefully, the blood was wiped from Albus' lips with the edge of Harry's Gryffindor cloak. Harry reached up to reposition the half-moon spectacles on the bridge of Albus' crooked nose.

A loud sob sounded and Hagrid lingered some distance away. His dark eyes were indistinguishable in the night, but Cassy knew they were flooded with confused tears.

'Hagrid,' she said steadily, 'he needs to be moved.'

Hagrid gazed at her and then nodded. He nodded more firmly, as if the meaning of the words had settled in his mind and stepped forward as Cassy rose. She moved to Albus' other side and placed a hand softly on Harry's shoulder.

'Harry,' she muttered, 'we need to go. You have to let go of him.' She tugged at his arm lightly and brought him to his unsteady feet. The crowd parted again, this time in a rumble of muttering as the inevitable was confirmed.

It was only when Cassy and Harry entered a far staircase that Harry finally spoke.

'Snape's the Half-Blood Prince,' he blurted numbly.

It was not a question, but Cassy nodded anyway.

'Where are we going?' he then asked.

'To the hospital wing,' she said. 'Bill will be there.'

Harry nodded and asked nothing more about it.

* * *

 **Sorry for being so slow! I've not been doing so well recently and it's really demotivated me when it comes to nearly everything, let alone sitting down long enough to concentrate on writing. Today was a good day, so hopefully I'll be able to finish planning seventh year soon. Normally by this stage so late at the end of the year I would have the next one all sorted and a few chapters underway, but I'm struggling a bit at the moment.**

 **Anyway, I will not abandon this story. (Not that I've left this story for more than a month at a time). It might just be a few more weeks until the final chapter of this year comes out and seventh year starts. It's not ideal, but please stick with me!**

 **I hope you liked it.**

 **Thanks!**


	27. The true beginning

C. M. Black: Tears of a Phoenix

 **Chapter XXVII: The true beginning**

Cassy was often caught in a constant battle between reflecting on the past and looking to the future. She had to remember her upbringing – for as dysfunctional as it may seem to outsiders – for it taught her a great deal about the world, how to behave, how to learn, how to prepare for anything and everything. She had to think of the years to come too, because everything had an affect on what could one day be. It was never a conscious balance between the two. Most of the time she was only vaguely aware that she was planning or plotting from past experiences to prepare for when she was twenty-five or fifty-years-old.

She knew she had changed. Hogwarts had changed her more than she ever expected when she boarded the scarlet engine what seemed like an age ago. The most obvious change was her clothing. Ginny teased her about how she dressed on several occasions over the years for being impractical or a sign of how ridiculously rich she must be if she had three silk blouses. It had stopped more recently, the older the two had gotten. It was not that Ginny stopped wearing her own ripped shorts and t-shits, but rather that Cassy had adapted to the hectic life school unexpectedly brought. She wore jeans, ones so skinny Hermione could not fathom how they would be comfortable at all, and had adopted sturdier shirts for lazy days of roaming. Blouses were still neatly folded in her trunk, she still wore pretty dresses and flowing skirts, her clothes were still finer and more delicate than any of her friends' would dream to own, but while she was always keen to look good and appropriate for public, her idea of what a young lady could wear had moved beyond decorative shirts and dark tights. She even owned a pair of sunglasses, much to Astoria's interest.

Her hair was shorter too, no longer at her hips but a few inches above her waist with long layers that she tied messily on her head that summer morning. Her face remained the same, with the exception of the loss of childish curves to further reveal her angular jaw and high cheekbones. Her eyes were still large and dark-blue, the only clear resemblance besides her lips she could identify to her mother, despite her father's insistence that they looked very much alike. It was a shame she had hardly grown in height.

She supposed, eyeing the photographs in her hands, the biggest difference between her present self was the increasingly bright smile she wore. She had never realised the change happening. She had never identified the moment when she began to be more open with her emotions, happier in herself and those around her, but it showed in the images she held.

Her smiles had gone from small half-smiles, no less meant than any other, to wolfish grins and sinister smirks that promised amusement and possible pain. She no longer stood away from her friends but often touching, although it often looked as though they had forced that upon her as they slumped across her back or wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She was laughing on one from their forth year when Hermione's younger self smacked her across the head with a library book; in another she was carefully trying not smile, continuing her homework and pointedly ignoring Ginny and Luna who were slowly squashing her from either side in an instance she could not recall. The next was one of her and Neville in their second year. She was smiling slyly at his and his cheeks were red. In his hand was a potted flower and the clouded glass of the greenhouse shone behind them as he flapped, flustered by her knowing look. The final one was of her and Harry; they were posed outside of Umbridge's office days after she had been removed from office. Cassy's face was still bruised and Harry's hand was bandaged as he tried to pry the Headmistress' nameplate from the door. Her smile was wolfish and free.

Yes, she supposed to herself, she had changed a lot in the last six years.

'I'm not coming back here,' announced Harry. He stood a few feet in front, toying with the locket as he looked out over the lake. It was not until the evening after the attack that he had thought to show her it and she had not dared to ask. He had flipped the necklace open to reveal a tiny folded piece of paper that announced it was all for nothing – the Horcrux had already been found and replaced with a fake, signed RAB.

'I know,' said Cassy, continuing to look through the stack of photographs Neville had given her. 'I never expected we would return after what happened.'

Harry turned to her and she knew he was frowning.

'I'm going by myself,' he stated.

'No,' she replied simply.

'It's too -'

Cassy looked up at him without raising her head. 'Did it ever occur to you that Albus had a reason for allowing you to tell Neville, Hermione, and I specifically? He expected us to go with you when the time was right and none of us will allow you to go alone.' She looked down again and held up a photograph. 'Do you remember this one? It was Christmas in second year.'

'You think he knew this would happen?'

Cassy eyed him somewhat lazily, though not dismissively. 'I think he knew a great deal many things. I certainly think he knew of Malfoy's mission and Snape's Unbreakable Vow. He told you to cast it from your mind, Harry. He knew he was going to die. I think he was just uncertain when.'

'He did nothing to stop it, he could have thrown Snape out of the castle, he could have struck first!' protested Harry.

'He trusted him, thought he was useful. I – I do not think he ever intended to live beyond this year, Harry. For as much as he could have trusted Snape, he knew when it came down to it that Snape would either die or kill him, because Malfoy was never capable of doing it himself.'

Cassy's words hung in the air. Suddenly, Harry dropped heavily to sit beside her. He toyed with a smooth pebble in his hand and then threw it at the lake; it skimmed the surface four times before it sunk with a splash.

'That's why he started to invite me to things and to took me to get the Horcrux this time, isn't it? Because he knew I'd have to do it myself one day.'

'Not by yourself, though,' reminded Cassy. She slipped the photograph pile through the gap between his bent and resting elbows and his stomach. He ran his hands over his face before he looked down at them. Slowly, his mind still occupied with raging thoughts, he began to sift through them.

It had been five days since Professor Dumbledore had died. A handful of students had already left the castle; it was no longer safe, the parents said. They were right, of course, the Death Eaters had walked straight in and murdered the most powerful wizard of an age in a matter of minutes. Some refused to leave. Half the castle had heard the screams of Seamus and his mother as they argued whether or not he was to leave or stay. He did not want to go anywhere, they had not had Professor Dumbledore's funeral yet and he would not leave without paying his respects.

Three days of exams continued after the incident, allowing for a meagre two days recovery time. They were on a scheduled and the Ministry wanted to be seen to be handling the situation, which meant continuing the smooth running of the school. Ginny had been exhausted by the end of the period. Her focus was on Bill, but news was hard to get through the defences that were erected around the grounds. She would have been gladly allowed to use the two-way mirror Cassy and Harry shared to contact her mother, had it not been shattered into a hundred pieces the year before. As it was, Professor McGonagall used her Floo to receive updates and pass them along.

Bill was fine, although heavily scarred. He would never make a full recovery, having been bitten by Greyback. The transformation was incomplete; Greyback had been human at the time of the bite and so Bill would never be a full werewolf. Although, in the few days he had been conscious, he had displayed a liking for rare-cooked steaks.

His wedding was still to go ahead on the first day of August. The venue had changed from a lovely Church wedding with high ceilings and colourful glass, to one at the Weasley's home beneath a gazebo and amongst their patches of wild fruit. Mrs Weasley had sobbed when sneered at over Bill's bedside. Cassy and Harry had walked into the hospital wing to see the two women in a verbal duel. Fleur's nostrils were flared, her head held unnaturally high as she declared his wounds did not matter to her, that she loved him because of who he was and how everyone will know how brave her husband is from the wounds he now bore. The announcement softened even Ginny's heart; Mrs Weasley dragged Fleur down to her height and at that moment finally accepted that Fleur was good enough for her son.

Not half-an-hour later, when Hermione and Luna had been sharing their part of the story where they had been monitoring Snape until his sudden departure, Moody had stepped through the Floo. Kingsley followed him and with the exception of the Weasley's, the entire Order was gathered in the Deputy Head's office. Tonks and Remus stood side by side. Mr Weasley's soft words at Bill's bedside had reached Remus in a way nothing else had for the last year. Whole men do not necessarily stay so, he told Remus as he gazed upon his eldest child's face, and the walls Remus had so carefully built crumbled beneath the knowledge he could no longer deny he was not enough for Tonks. Cassy chose not to comment as Tonks' hair was a violent shade of bubble gum pink when she saw her next. Mrs Longbottom sat beside her grandson, looking fiercely proud of his new split lip. Firmly, Moody declared Harry was to return to his relatives house for one final summer. Even though he protested, noisily and fiercely, the plan remained in place when they all departed again. It was the last decision of the Headmaster and one they intended to follow through with.

'Dumbledore never told me to stop following his orders if he died,' said Harry suddenly, eyes on the photographs. 'No one besides the four of us can know about any of this.'

'Do you have a plan?' asked Cassy.

'Not yet,' said Harry.

Ideas had already began to formulate in Cassy's mind the moment of the attack and they had not ceased in the days that followed. They were half-formed, not totally right or comprehensive enough to voice, but Harry would know that she was thinking already.

'You don't have to do this, you know, come with me. It would be safer if for the future we weren't together,' he stated.

Cassy eyed him with a sideways glare. 'If you are trying to break up with me, I don't accept it.'

Harry let out a huff of air that was not quite a laugh. The green in his eyes was illuminated by the Sun high above them. It seemed almost cruel that the weather was so brilliant and bright, when in mere hours would be the funeral.

'Albus trusted you and I hope you trust us as much as he thought you did,' said Cassy.

'I do trust you,' he said firmly. His voice then turned curious. 'Why do you keep calling him "Albus" now?'

Cassy tilted her head back and closed her eyes. 'It was what he asked me to call him when we were working together. I suppose now that he is not the headmaster and I am not long to be a student, the title no longer seems to fit. It seems too impersonal just to call him "Dumbledore".' She paused. 'I will miss him. For all of our disagreements, he was an exceptional man and an excellent mentor.'

He need not have taken her under his wing as he did, but Albus never criticised her goals. He never expected her to change them in the face of a challenge, nor barge her way past to put herself on a pedestal above those who protested. He was a calming influence, old and wise, more vulnerable than he ever would have shown obtrusively, but his weaknesses were always on display. He never pretended to be perfect and Cassy admired the strength of that. It was only now he was gone that she regretted never telling him so, never asking him how he could so easily hide them from prying in plain sight. She was sure it was an art.

'Professor McGonagall cornered me before breakfast this morning,' said Cassy lightly. 'She asked after you.'

Harry hummed. 'She wants to know what my plans are. Everyone knows there must be one, but no one has the faintest idea what. It's better that way.'

Cassy saw the benefits of the Order knowing of the plans. If there were more people to help then the search would be quicker, easier, most likely, because there would be many minds working on the same puzzles, yet they were also a huge liability. The more people who knew, the more chances there were for information to escape and for Voldemort to become aware of their intentions. The Order had always been a mix of individuals bound by their loyalty to Albus. Neither she nor Harry knew many of the members very well, or even more than a name and a face; they could not be trusted so blindly any more, the paranoia would be paramount.

Many minutes passed in silence. Cassy and Harry sat beneath the Sun with only each other's company. There were far-off voices of other students, but since the battle everyone had given Harry a wide berth, some too shaken to even be within eyesight of him. It was only a few hours until Albus' funeral too, so Cassy reasoned most people would be inside already, eating at the commemorative dinner, or respectfully staying away from the burial sight which Cassy and Harry overlooked. The staff were levitating chairs and benches into rows. There was more than just the remaining students, even more than if they had all been present, and it paid tribute to how well loved and respected their Headmaster must have been for so many people to make the day on such short notice and to such an inaccessible location.

'Hey.'

Cassy looked around at the soft voice. Hermione stood a few steps above them, a small, faded bit of parchment in her hand. She moved slowly to sit beside Cassy, who shuffled to make room. For a moment, she said nothing, watching the chairs fly high in the sky.

'I was in the library again today,' she said tentatively. 'I found a newspaper article saying that Eileen Prince had given birth to a son. The father was a Muggle called Tobias Snape.'

Harry turned to her and took the newspaper clipping from her hand.

'He's the same as Voldemort then,' stated Harry bitterly. 'A Pure-Blooded mother and a Muggle father. _Lord_ and a _Prince_. How could Dumbledore not have known?'

'None of us expected that,' said Hermione levelly. 'You thought the Half-Blood Prince was a good guy, I thought he had a terrible sense of humour, but even I never expected him to a murderer.'

Cassy had always appreciated Hermione's ability to dive into a difficult topic when it was something someone needed to hear. Even though her brown eyes had welled at her own words, her face was set.

'I don't think he wanted to associate himself with that book. He must have known you had it, but if word got out to Dumbledore, then maybe even he wouldn't have be able to worm his way out of it,' she continued.

'I should have turned it in. I should have -' began Harry but he was silenced by Hermione's glare.

'That's not what I'm saying, Harry. I mean that Snape was a liar to everyone. He was afraid of his true self being discovered, so much so that he did not even call out his least liked pupil on something so blatant, so obviously against the rules that no member of staff could have faulted him for giving you a term's worth of detentions,' she said firmly. 'Everyone and everything was so deep in his deception that there is nothing you could have done to stop what happened, Harry, and Dumbledore didn't expect you to.'

Harry tensed and Cassy placed a hand between his shoulder-blades. He relaxed again at her touch before breathing out deeply.

'Yeah. Cassy thinks he knew he was going to die,' he responded regretfully.

Hermione inclined her head just slightly, agreeing but unwilling to reopen that conversation. She looked behind her and sighed gratefully. 'It's Ginny!'

It was only a few seconds later that Ginny joined them on the steps. She sat on one above them and Hermione moved to join her. In her hands were two plates filled with toast, cheeses, sausages, bacon for Harry, and a slice of treacle tart each buffered by the cheese. She handed them a plate each and Harry looked at it uncomprehendingly.

'Neither of you came to lunch and it's a long way back to London. We can't have you not eating,' she said, placing a fork into his hand in exchange for the photographs.

'Thank-you,' said Cassy appreciatively. She could not leave Harry to wander alone; his grief had made him angry, unwilling to hear the constant whispers of out of sight bodies and the knowledge that while no one was approaching him, everyone was waiting for him to do something and anything at any given moment. She had intended to buy some pastries on the train and hopefully have him eat one before he reached the hellish hold that was his relatives' house.

Despite himself, Harry managed a smile.

They were half-way through picking at their meals and laughing at the photograph Ginny and Hermione had never seen when two more figures descended upon their group. The shadows were cast by none other than Neville and Luna, their hands intertwined. Cassy smiled up at him and winked and he beamed back, cheeks so slightly flushed. No one commented on their position. No one was surprised by it. It did not matter who asked who and it seemed inappropriate to tease them that it took a funeral for them to get their lives into perspective. Instead, they joined them on the steps, chatting and laughing with stolen glances across the lake to where a white tomb had been erected in front of the rows and rows of chairs.

When the conversation dropped and the sound of the birds was all that could be heard, Hermione let out a wistful murmur, 'I can't imagine Hogwarts closing. It has to stay open, it can't crumble because Voldemort wants it to.'

'There will always be someone who will want to be Headmaster,' said Luna.

'It can't be any more dangerous at home,' said Ginny, 'in fact, it will be worse to have so many teenagers out on the streets during a war.'

There was another pause.

'I'm not coming back next year,' said Harry suddenly. 'I can't tell you why, but you have to know that I'm not. I have something I need to do.'

'I knew it,' said Hermione sadly.

'Where will you go?' questioned Luna with an unusually morose expression.

'Here and there,' he replied vaguely. 'I'll go back to the Dursley's because Dumbledore planned it, but I won't be staying anywhere too long. I haven't decided exactly what I'm doing yet.'

'Which is why I will be there,' added Cassy.

'You'll have to make room for one more, Harry, because I'm not staying behind,' said Neville bluntly.

'Are you honestly going to argue?' demanded Hermione in an exasperated tone. 'You're not going anywhere without us, Harry.'

Harry's mouth hung open in preparation for protest, but at the sight of Cassy's smirk he let his complaints go.

Ginny growled behind them. 'I hate being younger. I want to be able to help.' Beside her, Luna nodded vigorously.

'I don't doubt you will be,' said Cassy and she honestly believed her words. Whether they were Horcrux hunting with them or not, she had no belief that Ginny or Luna would sit idly. Neither would Ron, although none the wiser to their plans either. They would find a way to be involved, they always did, whether that was a good thing or not. She turned her attention back across the lake. 'We need to head up to the castle. The funeral will begin soon. We need to change.'

For the last time, Cassy stepped into the Gryffindor dormitory. For the last time, she dragged her trunk across the warm stone of the Entrance Hall ready to collect to board the train. For the last time, she sat at the table she had occupied nearly every day for six years. The ceiling was not charmed above them. The House flags were vacant from the walls. The teachers did not sit at their table, but stood behind it and the students were not dressed in their red, blue, green, or yellow, but rather dark suits and dresses, ready to pay their respects to a brilliant man one last time before they were finally whisked away.

The last few weeks had been surreal, Cassy thought as they stood to follow Professor McGonagall down to the lake. The last few years had been surreal, she soon corrected. She had faced everything from trolls to three-headed dogs to Dementors. Then, the threats stopped being so trivial, they stopped almost being humorous, because there was nothing amusing about Death Eaters and Voldemort. There was nothing hilarious about seeking out parts of a deranged man's soul in order to finally kill him. School had been unsafe for years, but it was only as unsafe as she had allowed herself to find it. She had always put herself in dangerous positions, but now she was very aware she could no longer pick and chose. Peace was a luxury she doubted very much she would have for a long time.

'Harry,' she whispered, sat on a bench amongst the other Gryffindors. Her hand twisted around his, holding it gently on his leg as he stared ahead as Hagrid laid Albus Dumbledore's body into the white, marble tomb. His gaze was almost uncomprehending, unfocused and blurred with tears that did not fall. She had not seen him cry in a long time. The first being when Diggory had died and she had not seen it since he had thought she had died in the Department of Mysteries. Her hand tightened around his.

Her own eyes were dry, unpractised in crying, but her heart ached all the same for a mentor she never properly had a chance to know.

She was not going anywhere that Harry did not go. She refused not to join his journey, his damned destiny, for as long as she could, be it end in their victory or her death.

* * *

 **Oh my God, one book to go.**

 **I am so sorry for the long wait for the final chapter. As I said last time, I'm not in a great place at the moment, my anxiety is awful and my job position has been scraped on top of that, so I'm still in a rocky place right now. I'm trying to update though. I've written three chapters of the next book already and I have next week off so hopefully I can do some good writing then!**

 **Thank-you for sticking with me so far! I hope you'll enjoy the next year.**

 **CMBlack: Bones of a Doe will be out soon!**

 **Thanks!**


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